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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362381">Feedback Loop</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique'>Cantique</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>VPN [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Older Man/Younger Woman, Philosophy, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, adding tags as I go, there'll be porn i promise, where do I start</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:22:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He exhales, shifting, visibly as on edge as V feels right now. Fuck, she’s getting a little worked up by so much as the proposition, which is… confusing. “You’re still going, which gets me going, which puts us both in a fuckin’--”</p><p>“Feedback loop,” V concludes. Fuck. He’s got a point. An actual, legitimate point. </p><p>---</p><p>In which V and Johnny look for convenience and find something deep, confusing, and potentially tragic.<br/>(If you told me I'd be stanning Johnny Silverhand and writing fanfic about Cyberpunk 2077 six months ago I would have laughed in your face. I am a clown. honk honk)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female V/River Ward, Goro Takemura/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>VPN [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>988</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Positions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>look, this is a short chapter but this fic is going somewhere more substantial i promise</p><p>i can't believe the hackerman game made me have a _feeling_</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Could you at least put something else on?” Johnny asks, kicking his feet up onto the top of the passenger’s side dash and gesturing to the tank-top V’s wearing. “At least let me get the smell of him out of my nose.” She’d followed up River on his promise of beers last night, which turned into dinner, which turned into meeting his family, which had turned into… it had been a good night. She hadn’t got a lot of sleep. The tank-top was a memento. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’... seriously?” She asks, glancing away from the road of the badlands for just a second to look at him in disbelief. Everything that’s going on, and Johnny takes issue with her wearing a guy’s shirt?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Stinks of bacon in here,” he spits. His arms are crossed, shoulders hunched up -- he’s been like this all morning. Perpetually fucking complaining about V spending the night with River. He complains about most things, honestly, but it’s really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting to V today. Maybe it’s because she’s only had about four hours sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She considers telling him to fuck off, or threatening him with meds again -- but when she realises her nails are digging into the steering wheel, it dawns on her that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> an argument. Johnny Silverhand likes a lot of things, but V’s come to learn during their time together that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> to argue. It’s like a sport to him. Like he gets off on constant confrontation. “Will it shut you the fuck up?” She asks through her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t see why it’s such an inconvenience,” he snips back. “You’ve got your entire fuckin’ wardobe in the trunk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” V exhales and quickly turns right, taking the car off road and causing Johnny to slam against the passenger door in doing so. Unable to hold back a smirk, she can’t help but feel a little thankful that engrams can do that -- not that she has a clue how that shit works. She tries not to think about it. Makes her head hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car bounces violently as she drives into the nothingness of the badlands, getting far enough off road to grant her a little bit of privacy. Satisfied with the distance, she pulls it to a stop, opening the door and stepping out without another word. She can hear him flicker in and out, his engram following her as she rounds the car and opens the trunk. Johnny </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants a fight today, apparently. “Come on, a fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>cop,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost like you think you get a say in who I fuck,” V bitterly laughs, rumming through the trunk to find something to wear. Her fingers hover over a golden bustier. She’s meeting with Panam after this -- too showy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t give a fuck what you wear,” Johnny cuts in, speaking over her thoughts. “And I can’t tell you who to fuck, but I thought you’d have better taste than a badge,” he grunts. “Any chance of a shower soon? Feels like I’m covered in grease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls her eyes, settling on the bustier and pulling River’s tank-top over her head. “I had to watch you fuck Alt, you had to watch me fuck River. We’re even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t watching, V,” he argues, pointing his fingers to his head as she pulls the bustier over hers. “How many times do I gotta tell you? What you eat, I taste. What you smell, I smell. What you fuck--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” V slams the trunk closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny doesn’t let up, glitching in front of her as she turns to get back in the car, arms crossed. “Look,” his voice is a little calmer, but V can tell it’s an effort for him, something he’s doing to try and throw her or make her feel bad, make her feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> being unreasonable. “I don’t have a problem with you getting your cunt stuffed. I get it. Dipped my dick in my share of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross.”</span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Judy was down,” he continues. “At least she’s not some corpo-serving facist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, V attempts to side-step Johnny, but he glitches in front of her again. “You only want me to fuck Judy because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna fuck Judy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>pick, you’d be wrist deep in Panam--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” V spits in disgust, pushing past the engram and making her way to the driver’s seat. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t wait until you were outta’ my head, but I had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuckin’ bad itch to scratch, okay? Can we go now?” Her hand on the handle of the door, something stops her -- Johnny’s hand on her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Real fuckin’ shame that Officer Joy Toy couldn’t scratch it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V snatches her wrist away. “He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>great,</span>
  </em>
  <span> actually. Thanks for your concern.” She opens the door and swings herself into the front seat, slamming it behind her. “Asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t be that great if he couldn’t make you cum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s eyes snap beside her, watching Johnny glitch back into the passenger’s seat -- arms still crossed, but any look of anger on his face replaced by a smug, shit-eating grin that makes V’s skin </span>
  <em>
    <span>crawl.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Oh fuck off, Johnny. You don’t know what the fuck you’re--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I haven’t witnessed you flickin’ the bean before, V?” He laughs. “Might not have said anything, but I was there, fully fuckin’ present.” He grins, leaning in and lowering his sunglasses so he can look her directly in the eye. “I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what it feels like when you get off, and Porky Pig back there didn’t even come </span>
  <em>
    <span>close.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>V stares at him for a second, pushing down her initial instinct -- which is to punch him. No point. She’s tried it before and he just glitches out of the way. Instead, she twists around in the driver’s seat, climbing into the back. “Where the fuck are those meds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You serious right now?” Johnny scoffs. “Gonna block me out for tellin’ you what you already fuckin’ know?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being a fucking creep,” she argues, on her hands and knees in the back seat, checking the floor for the pill bottle. She swears it was back here last time she checked. Must have rolled under one of the front seats last time she went off roading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V twists around in the back, preparing to look down beneath the driver’s side seat this time -- but as she scoots onto her butt, Johnny glitches into the back seat with her. “No, I’m being </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> back there left you with a serious case of blue walls and it’s making you more of a fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> than usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an argument here to be had -- V knows when Johnny’s inviting her to fight -- but steeles herself. It’s otherwise been a good weekend, and she doesn’t want to foul her mood somewhere between here and Rocky Ridge. “Fuck you,” she utters under her breath, continuing to search the backseat for the blockers. “Fuck are you? Jealous or something?” She grins, finally finding the bottle. Bingo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous?” He repeats sarcastically. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure about that?” Opening the pill bottle, she glances up at him quickly. “Because you seem unable to shut the fuck up about it.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V throws back a pill, dry swallowing it, keeping eye contact with Johnny the entire time. “No offense, V, but you’re not my type. Not even close.” He pauses. “I like my chicks with some </span>
  <em>
    <span>spine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he glitches away, leaving V alone with her thoughts as she slumps down against the back seat. “Fucking hell,” she exhales. Their relationship has always been testy, but until today it was getting better. It wasn’t really a friendship, but there was a foundation of respect being laid down, at the very least. But today? He’d started as soon as she woke up, going on and on about his disapproval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She climbs back into the driver’s seat, rolling her shoulders, realising how stiff they are. If the muscle tightness isn’t from the sex, it’s absolutely from how tense Johnny’s bullshit has made her. She pauses for a moment, staring ahead, lingering on the comment he’d made about her ‘not being his type.’ Fuck was that supposed to mean? Was she meant to be offended by that? Why should </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> care? He’s an asshole -- he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> type, either. Was he calling her ugly? She glances into the rear-view mirror. She’s not going to be on a billboard any time soon, but she does okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slams the heel of her hand against the outside of the driver’s wheel in frustration, trying to snap herself out of the thought pattern. Fuck him. She can’t wait to get him out of her head -- literally and metaphorically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her phone rings as she resumes her drive. It’s River. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets it ring out to voicemail. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Takoyaki</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for all your comments, I PROMISE this is going somewhere</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next time River comes up, she’s eating takoyaki with Takemura.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lost interest in the badge, then?” Johnny asks, glitching in, leaning against the side of the stall’s countertop, watching her eat. V doesn’t respond verbally, taking another bite, raising her eyebrow at him quizzically. “Figured you might have gotten bored with him, given how you’ve got groupie-eyes for--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She coughs, taken entirely off guard and cutting him off. V quickly reaches for her drink, guzzling it down, pretending to be choking on her food. “V?” Takemura asks. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m--” she pauses, throwing back more of her drink. “I’m fine,” she coughs again, shaking her head, “sorry. Ate too fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Takemura looks down at his own serving, scrunching up his face at the sight of it. “I do not understand why,” he remarks, “it’s inedible.”</span>
</p><p><span>Johnny leans in, getting his face in hers, smirking. “You’re </span><em><span>blushing.” </span></em><span>He pushes himself up from the countertop, shaking his head, beginning to pace.</span> <span>“You’ve gotta be fucking </span><em><span>kidding</span></em><span> me.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>choking.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s reactive, something she accidentally speaks out loud, which grabs Takemura’s attention. She pauses, looking to her real-life, physical ally, and quickly shakes her head. “Sorry. Johnny’s just…” V rolls her eyes, trying to finish the sentence without choosing a specific word to describe his behaviour. Petulant? Annoying? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shitty?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Takemura offers her a gentle smile. “I understand,” he says with a smile. “I cannot imagine what it must be like, but given what I know of history, I cannot imagine he is…” it’s Takemura’s turn now to long for the right word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bearable?” You offer. Johnny grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to suggest ‘co-operative,’ but I suppose both could apply.” There’s a chuckle in his voice, not quite a full laugh, but enough to communicate the humour he’s found in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at yourself,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “You’re all… </span>
  <em>
    <span>eurgh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He scoffs, shaking his head again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V pretends to ignore him, keeping her focus on Takemura. “He’s difficult, alright. Rude, arrogant, possessive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possessive?” Takemura repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny pipes up again. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he…” she waves her hand dismissively. “\Wants to order me around, tell me how to do things. Forgets this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> body sometimes. You know? ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, but I can assume that it does not sit well with you,” Takemura remarks, idly poking at the takoyaki he’s refusing to eat. “In the short time I have known you, I have come to learn you have a strong will.” He pauses. “It is admirable. It will serve you well in what’s to come.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of quiet after this, only polluted by Johnny giving a loud sigh that’s punctuated by a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>“fuck’s sake.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eventually, as V finishes her takoyaki, Takemura rises from his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go,” he announces. “I will send you the coordinates. Meet me there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” V watches as the coordinates transfer, a marker adding to her mapping system. “I can drive, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Takemura says quickly, shaking his head. “We should travel separately. Less suspicious.” He pauses, looking from V to the abandoned takoyaki on the plate. “Despite the…” he nods his head to the plate, refusing to give the offensive snack a name, “it is good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see me breathing?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, smiling to himself. “Yes. Good to see you breathing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him walk away, disappearing into the crowds of Japantown. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good to see you,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks to herself. After the last few weeks of chaos, it’s a welcome thing to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Johnny glitches himself into the seat where Takemura was only moments ago, forcing V to look at him. “What, you decided cops weren’t low enough for you and decided to stoop to Corpos?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Johnny.” V exhales and pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She’s starting to find this more exhausting than anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least the other guy was what I’d expect you to be into -- physically speaking, I mean, if you’re looking to get laid. But Corpo-shit aside, he’s gotta be chippin’ away at fifty, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” She asks. “How old are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> now? 70? 80? Probably wouldn’t complain if I wanted to suck </span>
  <em>
    <span>your--”</span>
  </em>
  <span> V shakes her head, cutting herself off, deciding she’s done with this and stopping herself from stooping to his level. She rises from the counter, beginning the trek back to her car -- unfortunately, Johnny glitches into her view again and again as she walks. He has no intention of dropping this. “What’s it gonna take to get it through your head that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> body?” She asks him as they turn a corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never said it wasn’t,” he quickly replies, the glitching continuing, always a few steps ahead of her, keeping himself in her line of sight. “Just trying to impart some wisdom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorts at this. “Some wisdom?” She asks. “Sure. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she reaches the car, he glitches himself against the door, leaning back against it, blocking her from opening it as quickly as she means to. “I’m being serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you move--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you listen to me for a fuckin’ second?” He asks. “Look, I don’t like the pig and I don’t think I need to make that obvious -- but I feel what you feel and I know you felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> during your little dinner date. I just think you should think twice before throwing that away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stares at him, confused by both the statement and the weird reluctant tone to his voice. “...We never said we were exclusive,” she says blankly, Johnny apparently relenting and glitching into the passenger seat, allowing her to get into the car. “Anyway,” she sighs as she settles into the seat, starting the car up and pulling out onto the road, “thought you said he was shit in bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t say he was a good lay,” Johnny corrects, “said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve fucked plenty of chicks like you -- puts up a tough front but is soft as butter once you manage to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean jack shit and you know it,” V snaps, swerving the car to overtake another on the road. “People get ‘feelings’ all the time. You just don’t want me to fuck a Corpo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles to himself. “Deny it all you want, but he had you eating out of the palm of his hand the second he had you stirring that pot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long silence after this, V expecting Johnny to vanish again like he often does once his point is made. But he doesn’t. “...So why don’t you like River?” She asks, giving in to her own curiosity. “Other than the whole cop thing, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Overestimates himself. Thinks he can handle you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter that comes out of V is uncontrolled, a surprise even to her, a shock reaction. “The fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You think being with you would be a walk in the park?” he asks. “You’re on Arasaka’s shitlist, you were shooting up Tiger Claws less than 48 hours ago, and you’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your head. You’re not a ‘dinner and a movie’ type of girl, V. He won’t say it, but he wants stability. Guys like him want to spend the day playing hero and come back at night to a hot dinner, a quiet house, and a warm cun--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright,” she says, cutting him off. “I get it.” She’d expected Johnny to go on another tirade about cops being the enablers of corporations again, but this is… a pretty astute assessment, actually. She, admittedly, hasn’t been entirely honest with River, only giving him vague insight to her situation. He doesn’t know she’s on a second shot at living, he doesn’t know she’s in deep with the biggest corporation in Night City, he doesn’t know about Johnny, and he definitely doesn’t know she’s dying. As far as he knows, V’s a solo with a knack for BD editing that got wrapped up with some political scandal. “Ouch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he says, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard. “Says more about him than you. Guy’s not up for the challenge and definitely not ready for the sacrifice. He’s practically still a kid.” He shrugs. “Hell, maybe Takemura’d be better for you after all. Shame you can trust him as far as you could throw him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes her. “Do you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “V, I know you’re gagging for it, but think past getting some corpo-cock and tell me where you think that’d go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls her eyes, hoping to never hear the phrase ‘corpo-cock’ again. “It wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about you two running away to Oregon and settling down, I’m talking about the next day -- the next week. You let him fuck you and then what?” He asks. “He leads you straight into some Arasaka trade deal that sees him getting his job back and your ass getting thrown back into the trash.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a sharp left, chewing the inside of her lip. “Don’t have to trust someone to fuck them.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Been in your head. Tough girl act or not, I know there’s a sliver of meaning when you decide to fuck someone. You pretend there isn’t, but there is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw tenses. “Look, that’s-- it doesn’t matter. I just like to look at him. Doesn’t mean I have to fuck him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here to judge your tastes--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you fuckin’ are,” she snaps. “Anyway, even if I wanted to, I seriously doubt that Goro fuckin’ Takemura would be interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V glances to Johnny, noticing that he doesn’t immediately have a comeback. It’s because he’s looking her up and down, sunglasses tilted down his nose a little so he can see over them. “Dunno </span>
  <em>
    <span>why,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, pushing them back up and turning his gaze back to the road. “You’re a pain in the ass, but you’ve got a tight bod--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great tits, too--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny, I swear--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just big enough that they kinda spill outta’ your hand. Love that shit.” He glances back to her, smirking, clearly pleased with his attempt at winding her up. “Threaten me with blockers all you want, truth is the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arriving at their destination, V slams on the breaks. “You’re fucking disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, V,” he laughs. “I’ve never fucked a cop.” He pauses, glitching out of the car to follow her. “What is it, anyway?” He asks. “Your taste, I mean. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>get</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you just humour me?” He asks. “Just once. For fun? Never been a chick before, I’m curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mulls it over, stopping her walk, exhaling and closing her eyes. “Will you fuck off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks it over. Honestly, this is probably the most thought she’s ever actually given it. What is it about Takemura, anyway? She should, honestly, feel the same kind of animosity towards him that she does towards Johnny -- but unlike the engram that seems hellbent on torturing her, Takemura at least speaks to her like a human being. “He treats me with respect,” she offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Johnny immediately retaliates. “He’s just buttering you up because he needs you for something, like every other Corpo. That’s not respect, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He respects me more than you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I respect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do, do you?” She laughs, crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the car. “Yeah, okay, and I’m the head of Militech.” V rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny, however, isn’t budging. “Why do you think I’m being so honest with you?” He asks. “Have you ever considered that you might benefit from some tough love from someone who thinks you deserve more than having smoke blown up your ass?” He pauses, watching her stare him down. “So he’s nice to you. That’s all it takes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes another moment to think. “He’s easy on the eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” This seems to elicit a little surprise from him, taking on the form of a laugh. “Fuck, V, if you’re into the whole sugar daddy thing, you coulda’ just said--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he saved my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long pause after this, the two of them staring at each other. For all his grandstanding, it’s a pretty solid point -- but Johnny doesn’t like admitting defeat. “Again, it’s because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> something. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so let's think about what he actually wants, then,” she argues, trying to not shout out loud in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants his place back in the Corpo--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants justice, Johnny,” she snaps, cutting him off. “You know, like you did when you decided to storm Arasaka with some nukes.” She pushes herself off the car, deciding she’s humored Johnny enough. “It’s called an ethic. You should try having one.” He glitches in front of her, but she keeps walking. “It’s not happening, anyway. It’s not what we’re here for.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I think,” he says, glitch after glitch as she rounds a corner, rapidly approaching the agreed meeting spot, “that you’re looking for that old Choom of yours--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't--</span>
  <span>” She warns, stopping, her voice sharp in her head, “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> bring Jackie into this. I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll go back and neck that entire bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, she continues on her way. Johnny  keeps glitching ahead of her, his arms crossed, shoulders dropping. “Fine,” Johnny relents. “Just don’t fuck him, V. That’s all I ask. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of our sakes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bounce Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Takemura calls out her name, sprinting to her, the sound of his shoes splashing echoing through the storm-drain she’s hiding in. It’s raining, and she’s soaked as it is, so she hardly minds having to sit in the water as it drains through, nursing a gunshot wound and what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a broken ankle. “Well,” Johnny says, leaning against the curved wall of the drain’s interior, “he might be a corpo attack dog, but at least he’s good for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?” Takemura asks, finally reaching her, crouching down to her level and checking her over. There’s urgency in his voice, a genuine concern to it. It was meant to be a stealth mission, but it had gone sideways on her way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winces, nodding, trying to ignore both Johnny </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the flashing alerts all over her optics. “Don’t know if you saw me jump off the fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>roof</span>
  </em>
  <span> back there--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am more concerned about this,” he says, gesturing to the blood seemingly pouring from her shoulder. “Come,” he says, lifting the opposite arm without warning and throwing it over his shoulder. “We must go. They will no doubt sweep the perimeter.” He doesn’t wait for V’s approval, standing up and pulling her to her feet with him, V trying to withhold a cry of pain she desperately wants to make. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air in the drain is tense, the two silent as he helps V to his car, which is idling. It’s not what she’d expect Takemura to drive -- hell, it’s actually a bit of a beat-up -- but she supposes there’s no point investing in a nice ride for a city you intend on leaving as soon as possible. “Nice car,” she jokes, her voice strained as he opens the door for her, helping her into the passenger’s seat. She waits for him to come around to the other side, settling into the driver’s seat before continuing. “Where’d you pick this up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Outside Kabuki, unattended.” Takemura’s response is blunt as he begins to drive, although he does shoot her a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs, pleasantly surprised. “Stealing cars? Didn’t think I’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad of an influence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles in response. “It was a matter of necessity, I assure you.” He glances at her again. “Send me the coordinates to your home,” he instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s not like there’s a bullet in there or anything, but shouldn’t I go to a doctor?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura shakes his head. “Arasaka knows they shot an intruder. They will have eyes on all the doctors in the city, waiting for you to seek treatment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re gonna, what? Stitch me up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” His response is plain. Takemura, obviously, sees little wrong with this. “You do not become Saburo Arasaka’s bodyguard without learning basic first aid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shifts in her seat, wincing from the sharp pain in her shoulder. “Don’t know if I’d call a gunshot wound ‘basic first aid.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my line of work, it is.” His eyes are locked onto the road right now, only breaking away momentarily to flash to her. “Your pain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jumped off a building, Takemura,” she strains as she sends him the coordinates to her apartment. “Take a guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales, the engine of the car straining a little as he picks his speed up, swerving between cars. V catches a glimpse of Johnny in the rear-view mirror, his voice following as he glitches into the back seat. “You’re gonna tell him </span>
  <em>
    <span>where you live?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got any better ideas?” She asks silently. “Maybe you can take over and get me home with a fucked ankle and a shot up shoulder, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he argues. “I’d get him to take me to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>output’s. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe the boy toy could help you out, keep the corpo hands off us--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t like where this is going, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura takes a hard left, the force of it causing the car to almost mount the curb and bringing V’s attention back to the front seat. “Woah, woah, woah! You can drive like a normal--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are injured,” he says over the top of her. V catches a glimpse of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>white,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and as V puts this all together -- the reckless driving, the urgency in his voice, the insistence that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> see to her injuries -- she feels her stomach tense a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Johnny’s--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? I know I am,” Johnny finishes for her internal monologue. “I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” He gives a sharp, frustrated exhale, venom in his voice. “Guess he’s still got red blood after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, V,” Johnny’s voice rises, the engram leaning into the front part of the car between the seats. “You’ve been to enough bars to know what men are like. Don’t play dumb. You have an effect on--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura unknowingly speaks over Johnny before the engram can finish his sentence, grabbing V’s attention with a solitary “here,” before reaching over into the passenger’s side and opening the glove compartment. It drops open with a thud, a trove of injectors and inhalers rattling about. “Should be something in there for your pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old man’s got a whole pharmacy in there,” Johnny muses, watching as V rummages through looking for </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of anaesthetic. “Almost like he’s been expecting trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, Johnny! Can you give me two </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> seconds?!” she realises she’s speaking it, shouting it, but she really doesn’t care right now. The pain is making her irritable, saving face be damned. She grabs a canister of Bounce Back, ripping the cap off and tossing it aside before slamming the injector into her arm, all in one fluid movement. She rests back into her seat, using the knee on her ‘good’ leg to kick the glove compartment closed, the immediate rush of the Bounce Back making her head funny as the euphoria rushes over her. Bounce Back, unlike MaxDoc, doesn’t do anything for the pain so much as it stops you from </span>
  <em>
    <span>caring</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it -- but that’s all V needs right now. “Sorry, Goro.” She freezes, jaw tensing. Goro? Is she allowed to call him that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura slows down a little, coming to the intersection before her apartment building. “Do not apologise,” he replies. “Perhaps the pain relief will keep your ‘friend’ quiet for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks behind her -- surprisingly, Takemura is right. Johnny’s nowhere to be seen. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura pulls the car up in front of V’s megabuilding, barely waiting for the car to stop before opening his door. He all but sprints to the passenger side, opening the door for V and helping her out, his eyes darting all over the place as he helps her from the car up the steps of the building and to the elevator. “It’s okay,” she assures him, picking up quickly on the tension. “Not the first time someone’s dragged my bleeding ass in here, won’t be the last.” She tries to laugh, wanting to put him at ease, but the movement of her chest reminds her suddenly of the wound in her shoulder and she winces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They enter the elevator, and while V fully expects Takemura to lean her against the wall or something, he doesn’t. He keeps her where she is, and she quickly realises he’s not just helping her upright but </span>
  <em>
    <span>holding her against him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> like letting go of her means she’ll vanish. She tries not to think much of it, worried that lingering on it or reading into it might summon Johnny and his ever unwelcome commentary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final stretch to her apartment feels like an eternity, but it’s all worth it when they finally make it inside and she’s able to collapse onto her couch. “Your medical supplies?” Takemura asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gestures to the bathroom. “There’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer.” He immediately sets off to find it, leaving V to deal with Johnny, who’s decided to drop in, right on queue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He gets you fixed up and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaves,</span>
  </em>
  <span> got it?” His voice is low, like he’s trying to keep it out of Takemura’s earshot. Sometimes even Johnny forgets that only V can see and hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he’s gonna want to hang out, Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you underestimate what men’ll do for the attention of a young--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” V eyes the blockers that sit on the coffee table. A warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny exhales, crossing his arms as he watches Takemura return to V with the first aid kit, sitting beside her. “You will need to remove your jacket,” he tells her, opening up the kit. V sees Johnny opening his mouth, but gives him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> before he can say whatever petty shit he was thinking of. She grits her teeth, pulling off her jacket, feeling it </span>
  <em>
    <span>peel</span>
  </em>
  <span> away from her shoulder, the blood having soaked it through, and discards it onto the floor. “Your shirt, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” V and Johnny seem to ask in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot have fabric getting in the way,” Takemura explains, not even looking at V as he collects what he needs from the first aid kit, setting each item out on the coffee table. He pauses, his brow knitting a little in thought. Perhaps it’s just dawned on him what he’s asking. “I have seen you at much worse,” he assures her -- or at least attempts to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s fingers settle on the hem of her t-shirt -- it’s an old thing, a ratty crop top she found at a thrift stall after a big night where she just needed something </span>
  <em>
    <span>clean</span>
  </em>
  <span> to wear on the way home. She hesitates, considering crawling to the bathroom to change into a different top that will allow him better access, but then Johnny speaks up. “You’re not seriously gonna fall for--” Johnny doesn’t get to finish before V gingerly pulls the shirt over her head out of spite, discarding it, leaving her in her bra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more shit you give me, the more clothes come off,” she thinks, staring directly at Johnny, jumping suddenly when Takemura reaches out and begins to wipe away at the wound with some disinfectant. She presses her teeth together, trying to ignore the discomfort, turning her attention back to Takemura. “Seen worse than this, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “After I pulled you from the landfill, you were in the care of your ripperdoc for a while.” He pauses, looking over the wound, satisfied with the cleanliness of it. “I attended daily to check your progress. There were times my assistance was required.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” she watches him dispose of the disinfectant-soaked wipes, “you would have seen me naked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny groaning in frustration, but Takemura’s reaction is what she’s really interested in. He almost physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>flinches</span>
  </em>
  <span> at her question, blinking a few times, his eyes darting aside and away from her. He clears his throat, reaching out for a MaxBandage, regaining control after his momentary stumble in composure. “Only as was necessary, I assure you. I was…” he clears his throat again. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> referring to seeing you with an open skull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” V laughs nervously, trying to play it off as a bit of friendly banter as Takemura removes the plastic from the Max Bandage and begins applying it to her shoulder. That’s what this is, after all -- friendly banter. She’s always provocative for fun. Takemura is no exception. “Yeah, that’s uh… that’s one way of getting inside me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The embarrassment that follows is physically painful, made no easier by Johnny’s reaction. She expected some kind of passive aggressive comment, some kind of berating -- but instead, the rockerboy tosses his head back and laughs so hard that even though he’s in V’s head, it’s a miracle that no one else can hear him. “V,” Takemura says, his eyes almost laser-focused on setting the MaxBandage properly with the right amount of pressure and tension, “I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a joke,” she says quickly, the same nervous laugh following. Usually she’s fine talking to men, but something about Takemura is throwing her right off. Or maybe it’s Johnny. She’s definitely going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>blame</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny, anyway. “A bad one. I’m sorry.” She waits for him to say something -- anything -- but Takemura doesn’t speak. “You visited every day, huh?” She asks, trying to fill the silence and change the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, pulling the tab on the MaxBandage to activate it and close the seal. It immediately feels cool and tingly on her skin, like menthol or something. Probably the internal anesthetic and protein solution that makes it heal wounds so quickly. “I needed your help desperately. It was of great importance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww,” she playfully says with a smile as he sits back, discarding the tab from the MaxBandage. “And here I thought it was because you were worried about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not back then,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back then? She blinks at this. “That mean you would be now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you mean to ask if I care for you,” he asks, shifting a little, looking away, “I would not wish you to come to harm, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s voice pipes up. “Bare fucking minimum -- how romantic.” He glitches to the other side of the coffee table, pacing, arms crossed. “You’re patched up, tell him to get his Corpo ass out of here.” V attempts to ignore him, only paying him a cursory glance before reaching out to collect her discarded shirt -- but Johnny, unhappy being ignored, moves in front of her, shoving his face directly in front of hers. “Not fucking around, V. Kick him out--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit the fuck down, old man!” She snaps, accidentally verbalising the thought. She looks to Takemura, hoping that he may have not noticed or even politely ignored it. She’s not so lucky, however, the bodyguard staring at her with an eyebrow curiously raised. Shit. He didn’t think she was talking to him, did she? “Uh. Sorry. Johnny’s… being Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Accepting her explanation, he nods. “He is giving you more trouble than usual today. Is your condition getting worse?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-- I mean, yeah, but it’s not that,” she assures him, not wanting him to worry, especially after all of today’s hard work. “He’s just… shitty with me. It’s a whole thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he replies with another nod of the head. “I cannot imagine he would be pleased that you are working with an Arasaka agent,” he muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s an understateme--” as if Johnny’s anger is lashing out, her vision goes funny, the sharp, ice-old sting of another relic malfunction ripping through her head. “Fuck!” She cries out, doubling over, her hands rising to her head. She can hear Takemura say her name, feel his hand on her back, but it’s barely registering as the pain takes the forefront. Her entire head hurts -- jaw, eyes, sinuses, </span>
  <em>
    <span>teeth, </span>
  </em>
  <span>-- every muscle in her body tenses, clenches, as she begins sweating. V’s had chrome short-circuit before, and this feels the same, but worse. Every time it happens, it gets more and more intense, and it’s like she’s stuck in a waking nightmare until it eventually passes enough for her to return to lucidity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it finally passes, Johnny is nowhere to be seen. Usually he glitches away whenever the relic malfunctions. If it’s by choice or something it forces him to do, she’s unsure. She’s never really asked and he’s never said anything. She looks up, her vision still a little blurry as she comes back, Takemura’s hand still on her back. “V?” He asks. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to tell him she’s fine, but given that Takemura looks worried about her and isn’t dismissing her as ‘looking fine’ like he did last time she had an episode in his company, she’s guessing that she looks as bad as she feels. “No,” she finally admits. “They’re getting worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw visibly tenses. “I am sorry.” He exhales, looking away for a second, his expression almost guilty. “I am sure that Hanako-Sama will be able to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks around the room, frowning, his eyes eventually settling on her bed. “You need to rest,” he decides, rising from the couch. “Come,” he reaches his arm out, offering it to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, but I think my ankle’s broken… I’m just gonna nap here and call Vik when things die down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura shakes his head. “It is not broken. Come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” he nods to his arm, gesturing for her to take it once more. “You would know if it was broken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V finally obliges him, taking his arm and carefully leaning against him as she rises from the couch. Together, they manage to slowly walk (and hobble) from the couch to V’s bed. “This is my stop,” she jokes, dropping onto the bed, bouncing against the mattress on impact. “Still calling Vik, though. Gotta get fixed by the parade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura smiles at this, nodding in acknowledgement. “Yes. Of course. But until then, you need to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure.” V returns the smile, although her’s is probably way weaker. “How are we gonna celebrate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we pull this off,” she explains. “We gotta celebrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V can tell he wants to dismiss this, but the smile on his face betrays his real attitude. “That is if Hanako hears us out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she nods, “but let’s say this all goes off without a hitch and Hanako believes us. How should we celebrate?” She asks. “Music? Strippers? I know this great place with--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a hint of laughter in Takemura’s voice as he cuts her off, stopping her short of explaining how Lizzy’s works. “Food,” he says. “I will show you </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner huh?” She smiles. “Didn’t know you were a cook.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not, but I am sure Arasaka would employ at least one in one of their restaurants.” He takes a second. “I am told Hanako-Sama is fond of Embers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V blinks, a little taken aside by the offer. Embers is </span>
  <em>
    <span>expensive</span>
  </em>
  <span> and booked out for years unless you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me after this,” she half-jokes, a hint of truth in there. “Little bit scandalous, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps if you had asked me when we first began working together,” he muses. “But my opinion has since changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much has it changed?” Another half joke, but something about the way he says it, the way Takemura is looking at her and </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been looking at her this whole time, is making her heart beat just a little faster. She doubts it -- she’s sure this is just one of those little crushes you randomly get sometimes when someone new comes into your life and does something like save you from a landfill burial -- but part of her is excited about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibility. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura watches her carefully for a moment, eyes fixed on her. It feels like he’s sizing her up, or waiting for her to… </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something. But she sees the subtleties of his shoulders dropping, his brows softening from their usual frown, his chest rising with an inhale, and realises he’s just come to some kind of conclusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, to her surprise, he reaches out, leaning down ever so much to move a stray couple of strands of hair from her forehead, where they’ve been caked against her skin in dried blood. Pulling them away stings just the tiniest bit, but V wouldn’t dare say anything, not right now, not when this moment that has apparently sprung to life from a Samurai fanfiction is unfolding in front of her like a really, really good romance BD. “Drastically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure who initiates the kiss, but it’s irrelevant to her. The first is soft, so soft that if her head was any fuzzier from the Bounce Back she may have missed it completely. But the second is… well, it’s a signal kiss. More than the last, but still a test of the waters. He cups her face in his hand as they kiss, V instinctively raising her arms up to drap them over his shoulders and behind his neck--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pathetic,” Johnny’s voice spits, so loud that it makes her flinch and pull back from Takemura, expecting the engram to be right next to her face. “Didn’t take you for a corpo Joy Toy, V.” She can’t see him. Either he’s talking directly into her brain, or he glitched away quick enough to make her doubt herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Takemura says quickly, standing back up, an urgency in his tone. “V, I have let my--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says quickly, her face hot, her heart racing. “It’s fine. It’s…” she considers telling him the truth, that Johnny has been insufferable about her friendship with Takemura and will go absolutely apocalyptic on her if they take it further, but she decides against it. He looks not just embarrassed, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>ashamed</span>
  </em>
  <span> of himself, like he’s never done anything so bad in his life -- and V absolutely doesn’t want to make him feel worse. “My shoulder hurt. That’s all. I… Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V doesn’t know how to continue, unable to bring herself to do much but stare at Takemura, wide-eyed, pretending Johnny hasn’t glitched back into the room to watch this. What could she say, really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, we can’t do this because I’m more self-conscious about giving my personal head-ghost the satisfaction of being right than I am about my own feelings?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, though, Takemura rescues her from her predicament. “No, we should not have…” he trails off. “It has been a long day. We are both exhausted.” She’s unsure if he’s saying that to her or himself at this stage. “I will message you tomorrow about the parade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says with a nod, her voice lowering, trying to hide whatever emotions are bubbling up behind it. “Good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves without another word, leaving V alone with Johnny. Despite Takemura’s exit, though, the tension hasn’t abated in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny finally speaks, his voice softer than what V would expect from him right now. “V-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” she snaps, her voice low, shaking a little, her exhaustion coming through now that they’re alone and she can drop the front. “Don’t you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanna--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she doesn’t let him speak, knowing anything that comes out of his mouth is either going to be antagonistic or a watered-down attempt at pretending to be her friend to avoid responsibility. “Don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits on the edge of the bed in silence for a second, the moment replaying in her mind over and over. Finally, Johnny speaks, glitching onto the bed beside her. “Didn’t know it’d actually upset you, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw tenses, not even wanting to so much as </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. “Of course you fucking did,” she argues, although half-heartedly. She knows, deep down, there’s no point. There’s no winning with him. “You live inside my head.” There’s another long silence, V quickly wiping some burgeoning tears of pure frustration away against the back of her hand before they can fully escape. “One fuckin’ nice thing for me,” she says quietly, so quietly the dejected that it’s almost like there’s a direct feed from her brain to her mouth now. “One thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing getting any kind of apology from Johnny is like getting blood from a stone, V gives up, laying down on her bed and letting the haze of the Bounce Back take her away into sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny stays where he is, beginning to learn about the unfortunate consequences of feeling everything V feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was <em>too</em> much.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Holos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bit of a short one this time, sorry! I've been super busy moving house so I haven't had heaps of time, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for _too_ long.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s suspicious how quiet Johnny is about what happened. During the entire operation to take down the security for Hanako’s float, Johnny’s jabs at Takemura stick to the usual script: he’s a corpo attack dog, he can’t be trusted, he’s only out for himself in the end. He doesn’t bring up what happened in V’s apartment, though. He wouldn’t dare, not now, anyway. He doesn’t need to be able to hear her thoughts to know it’ll make her reach for the blockers. Despite the animosity between them, he doesn’t want to be totally shut out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides -- there’ll be a time and place for that. There’ll be an argument, a heated moment where he’ll want her to shut the fuck up and just listen to him. Or, more realistically, he’ll just want to get under her skin the way she does his when she does shit like fuck cops. Better to keep it up his sleeve for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then shit goes sideways. Not just sideways -- it ends up flipped, crushed, out of control. Takemura says goodbye to V with a kiss on the forehead and a promise that he’ll find her soon, only to tell her he’s leaving the city permanently over the fucking holo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Johnny’s watching her sit on the edge of the bed in a run down, shitty, dank motel that’s not even good enough to OD in, a shotgun on her lap and pointed at the door while she quickly wipes tears from her eyes. She’s doing that thing where she’s pretending her eyes are sore from being tired and ‘rubbing’ them to try and hide that she’s crying. Alt used to do that, not that he ever would have admitted that he noticed it. Not that he’d even </span>
  <em>
    <span>compare</span>
  </em>
  <span> the two. Sure, there’s some similarities, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever. This whole thing is bringing him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” she snaps, not even letting him start. “Let’s just try and make it through the night, alright? After that, you can run your mouth about being right all you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. He considers obliging her, leaving her alone and dropping it until tomorrow, but there’s… something bothering him. He feels like shit, and not because he’s done anything wrong, either. Like V said -- he was right. He was right about Takemura, this little plan, everything. But that’s not what’s bothering him, and he can’t put his finger on whatever it actually is. “That’s not it,” he says. He tilts his head up, the back of it pressing against the wall as he gazes up at the stained ceiling. “Just wanted to say he’s an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s eyebrow raises. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takemura. He’s an idiot.” He doesn’t look at her. It’s… uncomfortable. “Guy was punching way above his weight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares at him for a moment before quickly rubbing at her eye again. “You always thought he was an idiot, Johnny. This isn’t news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he quickly corrects, finally relenting and tearing his eyes away from the ceiling to look at her. “I said he was like any other self-serving corpo shitheel. Dumping you over the holo, though?” He shakes his head. “Dumb, even for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t dump me,” V says quickly. “We weren’t… it wasn’t like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you crying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifts. Good point. “It’s just… it’s a lot. This is all a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches her look away, her jaw tensing. She’s not gonna open up to him about this, no way, and he can’t blame her. Johnny wouldn’t either, if he were in her shoes. “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s lying, of course, trying to avoid talking about it, but in a weird episode of empathy, Johnny doesn’t want to force her. Not after today. She’s especially on edge with the threat of Arasaka kicking in the door at any given moment, and he can feel it. He can feel the heartbreak, too. Sure, it’s not like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> heartbreak -- from what Johnny’s been able to feel through her, it’s been a crush more than anything. But there’s an edge to it that makes it just as bad. She’s been looking for someone to fill the hole that Choom of hers left in her life. The real hurt is from the abandonment of someone she trusts. It fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stings.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“When things die down, you should call Panam.” He suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” V’s voice is laden with venom, holding back anger, bitterness, making Johnny wonder if he’s pushed her too far and too hard over the course of their… whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. Maybe he’s permanently broken their relationship. “So you can stare at her ass and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, V, not everything is an attack.” Johnny stops himself there, knowing her anger is bleeding over into him. It’s getting harder and harder to separate his own feelings from hers, hell knows how she must handle it. “You and her are Chooms, that’s all. Like you said… it’s been a lot.” He pauses, trying to think of a follow up, struggling to find one. “Might need to camp with the Aldercados for a while, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles to herself, her thoughts running through his head a little. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nearly sounded like he cared for a second.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “It’s a nice thought, but we don’t have time to just run away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he exhales again, tilting his head a little to peek between the slats of the window shades. “We don’t.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Johnny had guessed he’d be a little uncomfortable in V’s body at first, but he miscalculated. Everything she’s wearing seems to be uncomfortable, for starters. Her pants are comfortable, but he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> her underwear riding up her asscheeks, and this whole bra thing is digging into her back and shoulders. Does she notice this, or is she used to it? And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He used to wonder why she didn’t wear a higher heel, make herself a little more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know --</span>
  </em>
  <span> but holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> even these boots hurt. How does she live like this? No wonder she’s such a bitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet -- her silence is the most uncomfortable thing of all. He’d thought he’d be able to hear her, even if he’d taken over, the way she can hear and see him. But there’s nothing, and it’s making him uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s speeding through the city and into Pacifica. V’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he knows that much. He can feel her, sort of. Silent, but present. The last attack was bad. Real bad. If he hadn’t taken over she would have flatlined and they’d both be gone. They’re running out of time, and he has a decision to make. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to change gears and her nails catch on the stick, making her fingers sting. How does she manage to do a single fucking thing like this? These are the first things to go when he--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny pulls over. The Pistis Sophia. His old haunt. He reaches over and opens the glove compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>When</em> he takes over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t thought about it for a while -- taking over. He obviously wanted to at first, a knee-jerk reaction, the adrenaline still pumping through him from whatever had happened to V, waking up as a ghost and acting like a cornered animal. Still feels bad for beating the shit out of V like he did (not that he’ll ever tell her that.) Once he’d cooled down he wanted to let her live, wanted to give her body back because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that between him, V, Alt, and Rogue, they could find a way to fix this without anyone having to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Alt isn’t Alt anymore, and Rogue… well, he doubts, somehow, that she’s going to want shit to do with him. That leaves V, who’s MIA right now, and him -- who will turn into a ghost the second V comes back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not as promising as it was so much as a week ago. Johnny’s getting stronger and stronger, but at the cost of V getting sicker and sicker. He stares at the two pill bottles. There probably isn’t going to be a happy ending to this, and he’s not sure he’s ready to go yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A car around the corner beeps its horn, overtaking another driver and quickly pulling his attention out the window. Satisfied that it’s not someone tailing him, he moves to look at the bottles again, but catches a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror. A glimpse of V, rather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a few seconds to fully grasp that it’s… not just her, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kind of. Sort of. It’s him right now. It’s him if he takes over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts her hand to her face. Her skin, despite all the fire she seems to run head-on into, is soft, even with the chrome that decorates it. He’d never tell her in the same words, but she’s gorgeous, the same type he would have gone for back in the day. Sure, her personality would have put him off, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, that’s a lie. V is a fucking bitch, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> that about her. She’s not boring. She challenges him, gives him someone to argue with -- not the most healthy basis for an attraction to someone, sure, but he’d be an idiot to start lying to himself now. She’s funny, too. Sense of humor is a little different, but once he learned to speak her language a little better he started ‘getting’ her more. She’s pretty great. But he can’t let her know he thinks that, because if she thinks he cares more than he has to, it’s gonna be harder for him if he’s got to take over, isn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he takes over, this will be his face for the rest of his life. An every day, permanent reminder of how he threw her life away to have a second shot at his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps cursing under his breath, that same thought ringing through his mind over and over. Unable to admit it to himself, he takes both the bottles, all but kicking the door open to begin the climb to the floor of his old apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still got so much shit to do. He wants to fix things with Rogue. Wants to see Kerry and the band and say a proper goodbye. Wants to keep fighting Arasaka, wants to get them one last time for everything they’ve fucking done to him and Alt and V----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching his floor, Johnny leans against the railing and looks out to the view of the beach. “And V, huh?” He says to himself. If he takes over and ‘kills’ V, he gets another, what, 5 or 6 years of fucking with the Corpos until he blows himself up again? Gets his shit kicked in by Smasher? Back in his day, sure, that was a lot. But without the old crew? Without V? It’s nothing. So much has changed now, there’s so many things he’d have to learn that V just already knows. Can’t just hit the ground running like he’s been able to do with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That and he’d have to live with what he’s done. He’d have to wake up every morning and look at her face in the mirror. Another body to add to his trail of destruction and selfishness, except he’d have to live in this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one fuckin’ wins if he does that. No one wins except Arasaka. Probably itching to get to kill him twice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s holo rings. It’s the cop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s first reaction is to reject the call. Maybe block his number. But that little bit of bitterness from before swells up inside him and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V,” River says, audibly relieved. “Been trying to call you for a while. Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Johnny’s response is short, but he’s a little spooked by the way </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice comes out whenever he talks. “Going through it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Through what?” River asks. “I know you told me you’ve got some stuff going on, but I… look, I can’t stop thinking about you, V.” The man on the other end of the line pauses, his jaw tensing as he glances away. “Can’t get you out of my head, and I’m worried about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny had, originally, when taking the call, formulated a plan based on his own knee-jerk reaction to seeing River’s name. He’d wanted to tell River that he -- or, uh V -- wasn’t interested and that he should stop calling. But then he thought about how mad V would be with him, and while he could live with that, he thinks about her crying and… then he thinks about </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is that he cares about who she fucks so much. Why the fuck is he so bothered by V being with this guy? Why is he so angry about her having an input at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if he’s ready to unpack that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny throws the bottle of Misty’s pills to the ground, the cap opening and the pills spilling everywhere. He considers stepping all over them, grinding them into the concrete so V won’t have that option and he won’t have that temptation. He doesn’t, though. He feels this way now, but who knows how he’ll feel in a few days -- how </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel in a couple of days. "It's fine. It's... it's all very..." he's trying to mimic how V talks, but he can already tell he's doing a shitty job at it. "I'll tell you about it some day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" River asks. "Sounds like it'll be worth the wait."</span>
</p><p>"It is." Johnny tries to make her smile, a little one, what he <em>imagines</em> women to do make men feel that... that <em>feeling,</em> but it looks more like a grimace than anything. "Talk soon." He cuts the holo. V can fix that up later. </p><p>
  <span>Opening the bottle of blockers, he stares at the one in her hand. Johnny closes V's eyes and takes in the smell of sea breeze he can make out over the rot of gasoline and cigarettes in the air. Just like he remembered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He downs the blocker.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. So Heavy I Fell Through The Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aka: we don't have time to unpack all of this</p><p>for real tho thank you so much for all the comments, i've been like, influxed with them and thankyou so much. it's actually been hard for me to keep up, like, holy shit. i promise now that i've finished moving and we're more settled that i'll make more of an effort to respond but dsabjhakdbn woooow, honestly they all mean so much and keep me motivated to push through slower parts of the story of whenever i have writer's block of my adhd is winning. thank you all so much &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You ever think about what comes after?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s on the bed, laying on her back and gazing up at the ceiling almost vacantly. At first, Johnny wants to snip at her -- he knows she feels like shit, her head’s pounding, but they need to move. They’ve got shit to do. He’s giving the promise of a second shot at life up for her, the least she can do is suck down some boosters and help him tie up his loose ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he notices her hands, fidgeting, something between her fingers. The dog-tags he gave her, vacantly flipping over one finger to the next in a neat little trick of dexterity. Shame -- with control like that, she probably won’t be bad with a guitar in her hands. The thought makes him--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...He’s not ready to unpack that, either. Another fuckin’ thing to add to the list of thoughts he doesn’t want to think about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches himself to the bed, sitting on the edge, his back against the back of the wall that frames it, his arms crossed. “After you die?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She pauses, the chain jingling ever so much as the tags begin their path in reverse across her fingers. “Can I ask you about it?” She asks. “Dying, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he shrugs it off. “Don’t remember much of it, though.” Johnny pauses, a thought crossing his mind. “Not sure if what happened to me really qualifies as ‘death,’ though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He… actually hasn’t given it much thought. Sure, he was ‘dead,’ and he’s slowly been coming to terms with his own mortality, but was what happened actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>death?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Not really sure if being uploaded to some Arasaka server is the same as dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny watches as she mulls this over, nodding to herself as much as she can while laying down. “What was it like when you were in there, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get emo on me now, V--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humour me, okay?” she cuts in. There’s something in her voice, something he catches. She’s trying to play it cool as usual, sure, but he can’t help but notice a hint of panic in there. Desperation. She doesn’t just want to know -- she </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s shoulder’s drop. It’s a bad idea to keep her thinking about this -- at least he thinks so -- but he’s starting to learn that V’s as much of a stickler for keeping control as he is. The unknown never sat right with him, and it sure as fuck doesn’t sit right with her. V’s good with tech, really adept little hacker, and Johnny had wondered at first why she wasn’t into Netrunning. He’d even thought it was a little suspicious. But now he knows different: the Net’s full of questions and fuck all awnsers. The distinct lack of control probably scares the shit out of her the same way it scares him. “You saw it,” he finally answers, relenting. “Was minding my own business in there until you showed up.” He thinks it over, recalling what he can of his time in… a chip? On a server? “Wasn’t like that all the time. Sometimes it was like I was asleep, like being knocked unconscious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I was in there… thought I was dreaming,” she recalls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he nods. “Felt like that. One, big, fucked up dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s fidgeting stops suddenly, a thought catching her that’s just out of Johnny’s reach. “So… </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> you die?” She asks. Johnny stares at her, waiting for her to explain. “I mean… you’re an engram now, right? If we play our cards right, we could just, I dunno… keep uploading you to shit,” she suggests. “I mean, I know clones are still a way off, but if we can have doll-chips, then maybe there’s a way we can--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You suggesting we just slot me into some Joy Toy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at this, a half-laugh underlining her voice as she quickly comes back at him with “an esteemed gentleman like you?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Slot</span>
  </em>
  <span> into a Joytoy?” She glances at him and grins before rolling her eyes. “God forbid.” He wants to tell her to go fuck herself, but the smile’s nice. He hasn’t seen it in a while. “I’m saying there has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re like…” she tries to find the word. “Code doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>die.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If we keep the Relic un-fucked, you’re basically immortal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help but consider the thought. Getting out of V’s head and finding some kind of body of his own -- organic or otherwise -- sounds great, obviously. But the likelihood of that being a solution to their problem is slim. Even though, though, it’s still a possibility -- and the fact it exists, even marginally, stings when you’ve accepted your inevitable departure from the land of the living. “Would be nice if it was that simple.” Nothing’s ever that simple, though. He tries to change the subject. “Still down to let me in the driver’s seat tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Said so, didn’t I?” She asks. “Remember the rules?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash your hands and no haircuts. Got it.” He pauses, smirking a little to himself, shooting her a glance. “Although, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaving</span>
  </em>
  <span> your head isn’t technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>cutting</span>
  </em>
  <span> your--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take back my offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny laughs, shaking his head. “Not gonna touch your hair, V. If I have to get around as a chick, wanna be a hot one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him hopes to get some kind of reaction out of her, but she doesn’t even acknowledge his comment. “What’s it like when I block you out?” she asks. “Is it like what I saw when I found you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” he shakes his head, watching as V finally decides to sit herself up. “It’s more like…” Johnny takes a second to think about it, unsure how to really describe it. “It’s like I’m watching a BD or something. Still see and hear everything, but I can’t talk to you, can’t pop up like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think it’ll be like that for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shrugs. “Honestly? No fuckin’ idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V sucks in some air sharply between her teeth, sounding almost pained. “That puts me at ease. Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asks. “Want me to lie to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just…” she waves her hand dismissively. “Probably for the better I can’t see what you’re doing to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny raises an eyebrow, glitching aside as she scoots off the bed, making her way to the coffee table. “Told you -- just gonna talk to Rogue and then you’re back in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as she reaches down, taking the pill bottles and shoving one into each of her jacket pockets. “You mean that?” She asks, crossing the room to the door to collect her boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny doesn’t mean that. Sure, he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep his word, but part of him knows what’ll happen -- the allure of getting to live </span>
  <em>
    <span>properly</span>
  </em>
  <span> again is gonna get its teeth into him and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> decide to party a little. It’s been crossing his mind ever since she agreed to handing over control. And, honestly? He feels a little bad about it. He’d not gonna lose any of V’s limbs or anything, sure, but something about lying to her doesn’t feel…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly shoves the thought aside. He’s Johnny fucking Silverhand. If anything, V </span>
  <em>
    <span>expects</span>
  </em>
  <span> this kind of behaviour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘course I do.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Being in V’s body has its pros and cons. For example, Johnny hasn’t paid for a single drink since he walked into this strip joint -- which he did without any shit from the bouncer </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> having to pay a cover charge. The girls are nicer to him, and the women’s bathroom -- holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the women’s bathroom! It’s like a fuckin’ 5 star, luxury resort in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, the gonks in here won’t give him a rest. You’d think that after punching out the first who grabbed her ass, the others would get the message. Apparently not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to ignore the creeps that have been orbiting for the last hour, leaning her elbows on the edge of the stage to get a better look at the dancers. As he leans, the sting on V’s arm reminds him of the little present he’s left for her. A tattoo. It’s simple, but the message is clear. Something to remember him by when he’s gone, whatever the solution might be in the end. God, she’s gonna be shitty with him, though. He smirks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So </span>
  </em>
  <span>shitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her holo rings -- christ, V’s popular. It’s Takemura. Johnny’s tempted to pick up, tell the old man to fuck off, but decides against it. As much as he dislikes the Corpo dog, he might come in handy later. He rejects the call instead. He's pretty sure V will have more than enough to say to him herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diving back into a beer, a new message alert pops up. Takemura, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[V, do you have any updates? I have not heard from you in a while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope that you are not upset with me, but I would understand if that was the case.] </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks it over. Again, he’s tempted to tell him to fuck off and stop messaging. Sending him a photo of the strippers with a brief ‘stop messaging me’ crosses his mind -- but then he thinks about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinks about it. Whenever he fucked up with Alt, what used to get up his ass the most? Was it the fighting? No, he secretly thrived on the fighting, honestly, and the makeup sex was always preem. Was it when he found out she was fucking with someone else when they were ‘off?’ Nah, that just gave Johnny an excuse to fuck around with other people, too. Sometimes he’d even get to punch whoever her new input was. Loved that. Used to give him a rush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he used to really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking hate it when Alt ghosted him. Every now and then he’d fuck up so bad that she’d just go silent. She’d stop taking his calls, stop responding to his messages, wouldn’t even answer the door for him. He nods to himself. He fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. Used to cut right through him, make him think she wasn’t on his mind anymore, not even a little bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he opens the message and immediately closes it again, leaving him on read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However V decides to deal with the little shit remains to be seen, but Johnny can at least enjoy knowing the fucker is squirming until then.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>V’s not sure why she even bothered to throw the empty can at Johnny. He just glitched out of the way, as usual. She can’t hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he can make physical contact with her to punch her in the mouth -- how fucking unfair. “I can’t fucking believe you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to calm down,” he argues, watching her pace around her apartment, furious, clearly reading over Takemura’s message again. “He’s a grown man, he can wait for you to respond. It’s barely even been a fuckin’ day--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left him on read!” She snaps. “How the fuck am I supposed to come back from that?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s shoulders drop and he opens his mouth to argue, but pauses, clearly rethinking his words before finally speaking. “You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come back from that, V. I thought we agreed that he’s a gonk--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts him off, sitting on the edge of her bed as she does so. “We didn’t agree on shit, Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He ditched you over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>holo,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your decision to make!” She shouts over him. “What, you spend one night in my body -- when you told me you’d only be here for a couple of hours -- and all of a sudden you’re an expert on my life?” She’s so tense right now, so tense that he can literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same tension building up in his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>how fuckin’ sad he made you, V,” Johnny argues, crossing space between them. “You really gonna look me in the eye and tell me that you think you deserve some fuckin’ corpo fuckboy who uses you to carry out his little fuckin’ corpo redemption arc and then make you feel like shit like that?” His voice lowers, close to a growl. “Don’t gotta be inside your head to know that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t think that low of yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifts, her jaw tensing. “Fuck you.” There’s anger there, sure, but Johnny feels something else… frustration. It’s bubbling up in her chest, which means it’s bubbling up in his, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re chasing some fuckin…” he trails off, unable to find the right word. “He doesn’t actually care about you, V-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Johnny--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Corpos don’t give a fuck about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> but themselves, don’t make that mistake just because this one was nice to you for a while--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up, crossing the little distance between them, cutting him off. “I swear to fuckin’ god--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not gonna replace your dead Choom--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them really expect the slap to connect, but it does, and it’s so loud in her otherwise silent apartment that it seems more like a gunshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny should be more pissed off about the slap, not that he didn’t deserve it, and he’s definitely had worse from outputs before--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She’s not his output. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frustration is still there, creeping up, and it’s making </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to lash out. She’s crying now and it’s making </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> else build up in him, and her thoughts are starting to flicker into his fucking head like radio interferance, and she just feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> and just wants to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> good because it’s all been bad ever since Jackie died and---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to get laid,” he announces, bracing himself for another slap, just in case. She doesn’t, though, even though she’d be right to do so. Instead, V just stares at him in clear confusion. “Properly. None of this pretending to get off so Officer Input doesn’t feel bad shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth drops open a little, and Johnny doesn’t need to be linked to her emotionally to know she’s about to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>overcome</span>
  </em>
  <span> with rage. “Are you serious?” She releases an incredulous laugh. “Go fuck yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V freezes. At first, she thinks she might have misheard him. Maybe some of her implant wiring is acting up or some shit. But she realises as Johnny shifts his weight on his feet, eyes locked on her, that she might have actually heard him correct. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should fuck,” Johnny suggests with a shrug. “Get it over and done with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get it over and </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was inevitable. We live inside each other’s heads, for fuck’s sake. We’ve been way more intimate than just fuckin’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stares at him. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck is wrong with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He repeats. “I’m not the one cock-chasing some dusty-ass corpo because I wanna feel something,” he laughs. “Ever since your Choom died you’ve been lookin’ for something to make you feel good--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackie and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never--”</span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying you did,” he assures her. “But you’re lonely. Most people would be in your shoes. It’s okay.” He pauses, crossing his arms. “Your input kind of did it, you know, the cute date shit and everything. But, like I said, he left you with a serious case of blue-walls and it’s made you even more of a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a point, as much as she hates to admit it, and something about the thought is… weirdly getting to her a little. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Could</span>
  </em>
  <span> they even fuck? How would it work? Is it, like… okay? It’s an unknown… but it’s kind of exciting... “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think it works that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs again. “Can’t see why not. If I can punch you, I can pound you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, throwing her hands up. This is fucking ridiculous. “This… you… you’re trying to psycho-analyze me and you don’t know a fuckin’ thing about me,” she tries to dismiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Know you’re thinking about it.” He exhales, shifting, visibly as on edge as V feels right now. Fuck, she’s getting a little worked up by so much as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>proposition,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is… confusing. “You’re still horny, which makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> horny, which puts us both in a fuckin’--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feedback loop,” V concludes. Fuck. He’s got a point. An actual, legitimate point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figure if </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us gets there, both of us get there and we can finally focus on un-fucking this corpo nightmare we’re in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks it over. “I just… I just need to focus. There’s a lot going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So take something out of the fucking equation,” he suggests, an edge to his voice that suggests this is the most obvious solution in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she laughs. “With</span>
  <em>
    <span> you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Convenient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about it,” he offers. “You can go out there and fuck some random asshole who’ll probably catch feelings for you and might not even get you there -- same way the cop worked out -- or you can stay here, live the dream, and know all I’m gonna care about afterwards is fucking up Arasaka’s day.” Their eyes lock, the feedback loop making it close to impossible to figure out which one of them is put on edge by this. “No desperate messages, no break-up holos, no feelings, no crying. And before you start -- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’ve thought about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she groans. “That was one time.” A lie. It has crossed her mind a couple of times, sure. But it was out of curiosity more than anything, and even if Johnny </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was more than once, he’s best to not call her out on it if he wants to get laid -- which V is, for some un-fucking-known reason, genuinely considering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny exhales, his hands beginning to fidget with his belt buckle. “So are we doing this? Or am I performing a manual override on myself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hesitates. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> make her furious. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be confronting. But it’s… not. It’s exciting. Thrilling. She shares senses and thoughts with the guy who’s about to whip his dick out, and she can’t really deny that she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious about what it’ll be like. He’s right about the feedback loop -- she can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> him getting more and more worked up, directly in correlation with him reaching into his jeans to whip his dick out -- and she’s mirroring it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it,” she says under her breath, backing up to the bed and settling her fingers on the bottom seam of her bustier. “And it’s just sex, right?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “‘Cause I’m not really--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who the fuck you’re talking to?” He asks, confirming all V needs to know. She pulls the bustier off and over her head just in time to see Johnny free his pride and joy, his extremely hyped up cock in his hand -- and within seconds she’s got her mouth around it and -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling!</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s like giving and receiving at the same time, she can feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it. Holy shit, no wonder blowjobs are so coveted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She comes up for air, gasping for breath. “This… feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny gives a grunt of acknowledgement, hand moving to the back of her head to push it back down, “so shut the fuck up and keep sucking,” he growls. V groans in protest, but the feel of the vibration against his cock as it nears the back of her throat shuts her up. Fuck. This is fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>unreal.</span>
  </em>
  <span> V can feel all of it: her lips, her tongue, the feel of her saliva all over his cock. Christ, she could come from this alone. Curious, she pushes her head down more, taking him into the back of her throat -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what that’s about! A moan escapes her chest, making her gag, the squeeze of her throat around his cock making her eyes roll back a little. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You’re soaking wet right now, aren’t you?” He asks, fingers weaving into her hair and quickly gripping it. Johnny pulls her head back and off his dick, forcing V to look up at him. “Fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’d be good at this.” He tugs back a little on her hair, signalling for her to move back. “Get your pants off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know you’re exactly the same in bed,” V remarks, nonetheless obliging him and scooting back even further onto the bed, giving him space to join her, beginning to wiggle out of her pants. “Not surprising, given how much of a fuckin’--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Control freak I am?” he finishes, watching as she kicks the pants off and away. “Goes perfectly with your fuckin’ daddy issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy issues?” She repeats. “What the fuck are you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches out, now looming over her, grabbing at her face, cupping it by the jaw and cutting her off. “Don’t have to see inside your head to know your tough girl shit is a front. You think I don’t notice that cunt of yours fire up whenever I put you in your place?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “See?” He asks. “Even this does it for you. I’ve fucked a hundred girls like you, all of ‘em talked a big game, but once you get them naked they’re all the same, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it.” Johnny smirks, watching V carefully for a second before moving back, reclining onto the bed, his back against the bedhead, tapping at his lap. “Not gonna fuck itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw tenses -- there’s part of her that wants to argue. She’s down, absolutely, but she feels like she’s giving him what he wants too easily. She feels like she should put up some kind of resistance, make him work for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not working for</span>
  <em>
    <span> shit,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he scoffs, finishing her thoughts for her. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna get bratty on me </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks, a little stunned. “Get… get </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You heard me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Johnny,” she begins,a caution to her voice, nonetheless climbing up onto his lap, her legs either side. “How far did you look into my head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny smirks again, his hands finding her hips as she hovers over him, guiding her into position. V’s hair hangs in his face, but it doesn’t seem to bother him much as he growls, low, quiet. “Dirty little bitch like you? Not very fucking far at all.” There’s a pause, a groan as he guides her hips down, entering her, V gasping sharply as she takes in the sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it at once. She feels the way the flesh of her hips feels in his hands, as well as the sensation of his fingers digging into her skin. She can feel the way he’s stretching her out, but she can feel how tight and wet and warm she is around his cock at the same time. It’s both a headrush and the most raw experience she’s ever had. It’s incredible, and knowing how </span>
  <em>
    <span>sublime</span>
  </em>
  <span> she feels and sounds and looks from the other side fills her with a rush of confidence that borders on arrogance -- although she supposes that could be Johnny’s own egotism bleeding into her personality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uhhh--</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the sound that escapes V with the first lift and drop of her hips is guttural, close to primal, overloaded with all of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “T-this is like some… chemsex shit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chemsex?” He laughs, albeit through his teeth, stifling a groan. “This isn’t even…” he trails off, the groan winning as V rides him, “...close to...” Johnny sharply inhales, one hand wandering onto the small of her back and pushing down with every bounce. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V!” His head tilts back, bearing back into headboard, hands gripping, hips rising to meet hers. “If I’d known--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pussy’s this preem?” She offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woulda’ suggested this earlier.” He utters a quiet ‘shit’ under his breath as V leans back a little, redistributing her weight, adding more power to every grind. “Thought you’d fuck like a some little groupie, just a fuckin’... starfish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe that, did you?” She half-laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands grabbing at her waist, he pulls her off him, tossing her down onto her back. “Not for a second.” He hoists her towards him, rising on his knees, keeping her legs spread, lifting her hips up and re-entering her so quickly that V squeals in a mix of surprise and delight. “You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long?” She asks, her voice shaking as he fucks her, getting straight to it, the need too urgent to wait. “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, suddenly, he stops. “...I didn’t hear a </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand grabs her throat, the chrome cool against her neck as V falls silent. There’s a sudden tension between them -- Johnny waiting for her to give him some kind of sign, permission to go ahead. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, and she doesn’t need to say anything. She catches a thought that’s not her own as he starts fucking her again, pressing down on the sides of her neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knew it. Knew she was into that shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wants to retaliate, tries to using her mind, but it’s no use -- her adrenaline is high and it feels like he’s fucking every single thought our of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet you’re one of those bitches who goes cross-eyed when they cum, aren’t you?” His voice is straining more and more, and V can feel exactly why. She’s rapidly approaching climax, but it’s honestly a miracle that they’ve lasted </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> long, really. This is the most incredible thing she’s ever felt in her entire life, and a part of her is worried that orgasm is going to be so intense that it’s going to hurt her, maybe kill her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s worse ways to go out, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He releases her throat, the big event creeping up, about the hit, the two of them moaning and cursing under their breaths as he absolutely fucks her senseless, and then she catches another thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gonna make her forget all about that fake fuckin’-- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it </span>
  <em>
    <span>happens.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no figuring out who goes first, because the only really </span>
  <em>
    <span>clear</span>
  </em>
  <span> aspect of it is that they both go over at the same time, perfectly synchronised. They grip eachother, totally taken over by a primal wave of wanting more of whatever the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is ripping through them right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comedown is just as sharp as the climax, doubled by the shared sensation. Her back hurts. It makes his hurt. That makes hers spasm. Her rolls off the top of her and she melts out onto the bed, the sweaty, sore reality dawning on her. She just fucked Johnny Silverhand. Kind of. She fucked his engram. ...Fuck, she fucked an </span>
  <em>
    <span>engram.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She just had sex with code, a program. That’s not normal, right? That’s not a normal thing people </span>
  <em>
    <span>do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’s more fucked up than she originally thought she was if she--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe,” Johnny says, snapping her out of the snowballing sense of shame. “It was a convenience-fuck, V, it’s not that deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” she clears her throat, scooting back so she can lean against her pillows. “I don’t know if we should have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs. “Who am I gonna tell, V?” She glances at him, only momentarily, almost like she’s afraid to look at him. “Look, it did the job, didn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hesitates, but eventually nods. “Y-yeah.” Physically speaking, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> better. Her shoulders feel less tight, her head feels clearer, there’s this sense of calm that’s been missing ever since she spent the night with River. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then take it for what it was.” He pauses. “If I’d know it was gonna bother you this much--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” She speaks quickly, sitting up, the sides of her neck aching a little. “No, it was… it’s was good. Just…” V trails off, looking for the right thing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna make sure we’re cool,” Johnny offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s smoking a cigarette now, one of his ghost-smokes as he calls it. It’s not real, but it’s more about the habit than anything. It’s making </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> want one. Bad sign. “We’re cool, V. Fucked plenty of my friends back in the day.” He shoots her a smile. “One day I’ll tell you ‘bout Kerry and his New Years party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V gives a shocked laugh. “Kerry </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eurodyne?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny keeps his eyes trained on V, a little smirk creeping up into the corners of his mouth. “Take a shower.” She’s disappointed, part of her desperately wanting to know the secret gossip, but she can’t help herself and smiles in return as she rises up from the bed. Smug fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches her walk away and into the bathroom, a flitter of pride swelling when he catches how her legs are shaking. He could glitch away, bother her while she showers, jump back into her head… but the normalcy of chilling out in someone’s bed after railing them is… it’s nice. Feels real. During the act, he’d forgotten for a second that he was technically a ghost, a bunch of 1’s and 0’s on a chip in her brain. For a second, it was like he was back to where he wanted to be -- alive and well, still a little angry, trying to find calm in someone who thinks they can ‘fix’ him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not V, though. V doesn’t think she can fix him, nor does she want to, really. She knew from day one what he was really like. Maybe he played his hand too early. ...Still let him fuck her though. He respects that. He’s grateful for it. Felt more alive between her legs then he did getting into fist fights at the strip club the night before--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny,” her voice calls, bringing him back to reality, out of his own head. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is on my arm?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right. The tattoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny grins. She’s gonna go nuclear.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Plastic Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another short one. I'm so sorry ahhhhhhh next one absolutely has more meat to it tho with heaps more takemura because i'm a slut for love triangles</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Johnny is about to go nuclear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is he able to afford flowers?!” He all but shouts, watching as V sets the arrangement up on her coffee table, admiring them as she does so. Flowers. Real, organic flowers, a gift from Goro Takemura, delivered right to V’s door. Un-fucking-believable. “Thought he was on Arasaka’s shit list with the rest of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was,” she responds, sitting back, her voice calm and her smile matching. “Hanako’s funnelling him a stipend while she arranges--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While she arranges where she’s gonna dump your body once she’s done with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes her head, the smile unwavering. “Not letting you ruin this for me, Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches himself to sit on the table beside the vase. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to try and pick it up, throw it across the room -- but he knows she’ll reach for the blockers if he even tries. “Probably full of cameras.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scanned ‘em,” she replies. “Clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, no cameras. But he paid for that with Arasaka money,” he points out, trying to hide his frustration at the situation. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a catch. There has to be holes he can poke in this. “He just handed Hanako your address--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like she doesn’t already have it?” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “We’re talking about</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hanako Arasaka,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny. We gave up any illusion of privacy the second we let that proxy in that motel room.” She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “They’re just flowers. What are you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jealous?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “You fuckin’ wish.” He scoffs, leaning down to read the card. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Dinner? I promised you real food.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face scrunches up, outraged. “You aren’t gonna go on a fuckin’ date with this asshole, are you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V, you can’t be fuckin’ serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorts, smirking at the engram. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> jealous!” V laughs, Johnny’s stare not bothering her in the slightest. Visibly, anyway. “Gee, Johnny,” she teases. “You promised you wouldn’t fall in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands up, pointing at her. “This is why I don’t usually perform acts of charity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” She laughs, leaning back. “I’m a charity case now, huh?” She watches him, waiting keenly for a response, but Johnny doesn’t want to dignify her with one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Takemura</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t seem to think I’m a charity case.” She grins, and for a second Johnny feels something, a flicker. He doesn’t know where this smug fuckin’ attitude is coming from all of a sudden, but whatever that little feeling was is quickly overshadowed by his concern that this is a result of his personality bleeding into hers. “Seems to think I’m pretty high value, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t have to.” She opens up her holo and opens Takemura’s profile. “Anyway, you’re making assumptions. Probably just him keeping an eye on me. Less about getting some and more about keeping tabs.” She shoots him a message. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[[Where and when? I’ll be there with bells on.]]</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Johnny scoffs. His eyes are hidden by the sunglasses, but V can absolutely tell he’s rolling his eyes. “Really put my mind at ease there, V, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The holo pings -- a new message. Takemura, for all his faults, has always been impeccably quick when returning messages, she’ll give him that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[[Suishin. I have screened it extensively. The food is edible and we will be afforded privacy. I am sending coordinates now. Will you be available at 7:00pm this evening?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please do not wear bells. We do not want to attract attention.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-竹村]]</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Privacy?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny repeats, picking right up on what V’s reading. “V, what do I gotta do to get it through your skull? The gonk wants to stick his di--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So now avoiding ‘saka’s eyes is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing?” She snaps over the top of him. “Make up your mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[[It’s a figure of speech. Literal bells aren’t really my style.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Also, you know you don’t have to sign off on your messages, right? You’re in my contacts. I know it’s you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>See you at 7.]]</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny audibly clicks his tongue. “Thought we’d got this out of your system.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “Are you referring to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Throwing your back out?” He asks. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V blinks, staring at Johnny. “We did that so I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>focus.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. How is this ‘focusing?’” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s V’s turn to cross her arms now. “We’re still waiting to hear from Hanako about her offer. Figured Takemura might be able to give us some preemptive insight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will that ‘insight’ be on his dick?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Johnny,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she warns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got other shit to do, too,” he argues. “You promised we’d go after Smasher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still waiting to hear back from Rogue,” she reminds him. “Same with Judy about Clouds.” She gestures around the room. “There’s jack shit for me to do right now, Johnny. Might as well get some food out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another beep, another message.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[[It is called professionalism. I would not expect you to recognise it, however, so I will forgive you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will see you then. When you arrive, ask for Katsushi. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-竹村]]</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>V is doing a spectacular job at ignoring Johnny so far. She’s managed to make it all the way to Suishin without reaching for the blockers or even raising her voice. If Johnny’s incessant complaining about the situation is getting to her, she’s going above and beyond when it comes to pretending to not be bothered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches along the hallway as the hostess leads V past rows and rows of private ‘rooms,’ little booths with sliding doors that conceal the restaurant’s patrons from prying eyes. V insisted all the way here that this wasn’t anything but a follow up, an exchange of information, but she’s wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>heels.</span>
  </em>
  <span> V never wears heels that high -- they hurt her legs all the way up to the hip. Johnny knows this because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, even if she isn’t showing it. Johnny’s pretty sure he’s never seen her dress up like this before, even when she was fucking around with River. But she’s in a dress, her hair actually styled for once, makeup impeccable… and it’s a stark, cold reminder that she used to be a Corpo, once upon a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgot you used to be a Corpo,” he remarks, verbalising his thoughts as the hostess stops in front of a room, knocking twice before sliding open the door. “Explains why you’re such a bottom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V completely ignores him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hostess nods to Takemura, who’s already seated, and then to V. Once V has slid in and seated herself, the hostess slides the door shut, presumably heading back to her station and leaving V and Takemura alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, well, ‘alone’ if she ignores Johnny -- who has his shoes kicked up on the table next to Takemura.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not think you owned a dress,” Takemura remarks, attempting to remain completely straight as he teases V, but failing to the underlying amusement that she always catches, as usual. “Or a hairbrush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V tries to come up with a comeback that’s friendly, maybe a quip in return, but something sparks in her and-- “And I didn’t think you’d abandon me with Arasaka breathing down my neck. Guess we’re both learning about each other this week.” She blinks, a little surprised at what slips out of her mouth and how upset she suddenly feels. It’s not the attitude she came here with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny smirks. She remembers the bleed, how it’s worsening, how she needs to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mindful</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches Takemura shift in his seat a little, folding his hands together on the table in front of him. “I wish to explain myself,” he says with an exhale. “You are owed that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V doesn’t respond verbally, instead leaning back, tilting her head a little to the left, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “This should be good,” Johnny says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura spends a little while staring at his hands, only glancing to V momentarily before dropping his gaze again. “This is… unconventional for me. I have spent my life in service,” he explains. “Every waking moment was dedicated to Arasaka and Arasaka-Sama. Everything I did, everything I learned, listened to, spoke, ate… it was all done for Arasaka-Sama and his family. If it was not an act of service in some way, I did not partake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ nova!” Johnny snorts, bringing his legs down off the table, slamming his fist against it in a way that takes all of V’s strength to not jump from. “Don’t tell me he’s a fuckin’ virgin!” Johnny grins, cackling, but V refuses to pay him attention beyond what she’s forced to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, her curiosity overtakes her, however. “So… you’ve never…” she speaks slowly, trying to put it delicately, mostly to deny Johnny the satisfaction. “You’ve abstained from personal relationships?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura nods. “In my youth, when there were others in service ranking above me, there was time for casual…” he pauses, his jaw tensing a little. He’s stuck on words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Encounters?” V offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura clears his throat. “Yes,” he agrees with a nod. “But nothing more than that. Now I find myself with the time, and opportunity has found me, and I am…” another pause and he looks up to her, finally, eyes locking. “I believe we can be honest enough with each other for me to admit that I may have given in to my anxieties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you told me you were skipping down over the holo?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my defense, at the time, I thought I would be leaving,” he explains quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that meant abandoning me with Arasaka? Good for you.” Her voice is dripping with spite, and she sees his expression flinch momentarily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was worried that they would find you if I were to stay. My hardware has been revoked, but permanent traces are--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think Arasaka haven’t left some kinda tracking worm on my OS?” She says over the top of him, her anger rising as she leans forward and lowers her voice. “Worked for them for almost a decade. If they really wanted to find me, they’d fucking find a way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders drop and he looks aside. If Takemura could see Johnny, he’d be looking directly at him. “I…” he exhales. “I was afraid. Afraid of Arasaka, but also of…” he glances to V. “I do not understand my own feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny scoffs, but V’s reaction is more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>mild.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Ok,” she relents, dropping the eyebrow. “Let’s talk it out, then.” Takamura looks back to her, visibly confused, waiting for her to explain. “Given the our circumstances, probably better if we get some closure now rather than leave a loose end to tie up later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is exactly it,” he says. “You are, as you say, a ‘loose end.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps. But our situation…” he brings his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, squeezing. “Typically, I imagine such matters do not usually involve impending death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shrugs. “I mean, maybe in other places. Pretty normal for Night City.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Takemura takes a deep and long breath, resting back into his seat, somewhat more resigned. “Even so, there are other… thoughts that make me uneasy,” he explains. “I have known you for such a short time, to take such a risk would be careless by my own standards. And you’re…” he trails off, clearing his throat again. “You are young. It feels inappropriate to indulge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs at this. “Really?” She asks. “That’s what’s bothering you?” V shakes her head, reaching forward at the tablet that contains the digital menu, deciding this is going to require alcohol to survive. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Takemura, but once you’re legal, age doesn’t mean shit. Look at Hanako. She’s gotta be, what, 60? 70? Doesn’t look a day over 25.” She smirks, glancing at him, something in her finding a little enjoyment in his discomfort. More bleed, maybe. “Lot of men your age prefer to ‘indulge,’ anyway. Not like it’s scandalous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does not feel right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” She asks, tapping on the menu and selecting some drinks. “You’re hardly taking advantage of me or anything. I think you of all people know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” She turns the table around and slides it across the table to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That adds to my anxiety,” he says, tapping the ‘order’ button without choosing anything for himself. “That you are here. I did not expect you to accept the flowers, let alone agree to meet with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she says, leaning her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he agrees, “but you are stubborn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides open, breaking them our of their emotional sparring match as a waitress delivers the drinks. Takemura is, apparently, happy with the jug of water that was already on the table. V has ordered three tequilas. Maybe it’ll placate Johnny enough to shut him up. No one says a word until the door slides back closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” she reaches our and slides one of the tequilas to her, tapping her thumbnails against the glass as she settles it in front of her. “I was pretty angry, I’m going to be honest. You uh…” she grimaces, bitterly laughing. “You really fucked with my head there.” When she lifts the glass up, she does so with the intent to take a sip, but something in her spurs her to swallowing the whole thing in one go. “Don’t get it twisted, though,” she exhales, the glass returning to the table with a ‘clunk.’ “I’m here because I want to be here. Guess you’re worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura stares at her for a moment, Johnny glitching away, leaving V like she can breathe a little easier. “I… am grateful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not forgiveness,” she warns, reaching for the second glass. “Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” he says, smiling a little for the first time since her arrival. “I am grateful for the opportunity.” He pauses. “What about the detective?” Takemura asks her. “Your…” V catches a sudden glimpse of panic in Takemura’s eyes when he realises he has no idea what word to use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think that one’s gonna work out in the long run,” she says with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura nods solemnly. “I am sorry to hear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shrugs it off. “You know, Johnny says that he -- River, I mean, -- overestimated himself. Thought he was ready for me and all of… the stuff that comes with me.” She laughs to herself under her breath. “Never thought I’d say it, but Johnny’s right.” She hesitates for a second. “It’s not too late, Goro,” she says with a smile, taking the plunge and dropping his first name. “You can still back out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura returns the smile, reaching out for the tablet, all the while not taking his eyes off her. “No. I promised you real food.” He looks down to the tablet, beginning to order, fulfilling an unspoken agreement that he knows what food V needs to try. “Besides -- you have accepted all that comes with me. I will accept what comes with you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 真夜中のドア - STAY WITH ME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>'i love anxious/awkward takemura' you all said. OH BOY SO DO I!</p><p>this definitely isn't the last of him, by the way. Promise. :) I do know where this story is going, I promise, and it's a little canon-divergent in a 'I hated all the canon endings so I'm writing my own, call the cops I don't care' way.</p><p>thanks again for all the support &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>V’s a little confused. She knows how she ended up here, she knows she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be here… but this has gone so well that it’s… not only foreign, but downright suspicious. It almost feels wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s not helping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Johnny sighs, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. “Tell me again how this was just about gathering information, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grips the edge of the sink, exhaling into it, eyes flickering up at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick is a little smudged, but she otherwise looks just as good as she did when her evening began. “Don’t do this, Johnny,” she says under her breath in a whisper, looking at him from the reflection of the mirror. “Not tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanna know what recon you need to get from his apartment.” Johnny’s voice is soaked in bitterness, poison rolling off every word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t plan this--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re still here, aren’t you?” He asks. “Not like he dragged you here kicking and screaming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both correct in their own ways. V didn’t intend to wind up going back to Takemura’s apartment, but here she is, in the bathroom ‘freshening up.’ She’d gotten some info out of him during dinner, none of it very useful, though. Hanako is secretly sending him money for this apartment, which is miles more expensive than V’s is if the bathroom is anything to go off. If anything, Hanako’s financial support for Takemura bodes well for V’s situation -- maybe everyone will come to the table easier than V had initially suspected they would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s also right, though. V shouldn’t be here. She was meant to go home after dinner and cut a clean break -- or at least she knew that would have been the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing to do for now. But one conversation about the restaurant’s less than stellar quality Sake later and now she’s… here. In his temporary apartment, trying to pull herself together. “This doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny audibly groans and rolls his eyes, hanging his head back. “Think I’m a fuckin idiot?” he scoffs. “No one ever goes to someone’s apartment after a date--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just dinner,” she insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny continues, not even pretending to believe her, “and just ‘has a drink.’ You’re here to fuck, V.” His eyes thin as he stares her down. “You were always gonna fuck him. You know it, I know it, and he was fantasizing about it.” Johnny’s attitude is beyond spiteful. It’s rotten. V’s seen him angry, but this is different. Disappointment. Resentment. It hurts her a little, and it’s getting increasingly hard to not be bothered by that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but that doesn’t mean you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.” He glitches to his feet, beginning to pace. “Saburo Arasaka’s head fuckin’ bodyguard, and you’ve brought us to his goddamn apartment in order to satisfy your own daddy issues.” She can see his shoulders tensing up. He’s getting more and more furious as he talks. She can feel it. “Putting us right in Arasaka’s palm so you can find some validation. It’s pathetic, V.” Johnny watches as she takes a deep breath and stand up straight, smoothing down the dress she’s wearing over her hips. “Block me out, I don’t give a shit anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” She leaves the bathroom without another word. The pills are in her jacket, which is draped over the back of a chair in the apartment’s dining room. If Johnny’s going to literally ask her for it, she’s going to do it and get a well-earned moment of peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arrives back in the joined dining and kitchen space, where Takemura waits for her at the table. The furniture is sparse and minimalist, but all well-made and clearly expensive. It honestly looks more like a hotel than someone’s residence. “Are you ready to taste </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> sake?” he asks, watching as she takes the seat beside him, which he has arranged so they can face each other. Whatever, his more long term intentions might be, he does, to his credit, seem genuinely excited about sharing the sake with V, who had complained she didn’t like the drink after trying some of the restaurants. He’s spent the whole trip here assuring here that this stuff is better. He picks up the bottle, pouring it into the small cups, glancing to V every couple of moments. “I cannot believe you have been to Japan and have only ever had it warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought sake was meant to be served warm,” she says as she takes the cup in her hand. It’s small, specifically for serving sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura smiles, watching her lift it to her face to take in the aroma. “It is,” he remarks, “if it is cheap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a sip, letting the taste settle in her mouth and mulling over it a little. Unlike the warm sake at the restaurant, this is sweet. She can taste more than just the ricey, vinegary signature of the other sake she’s had. It’s floral, like being able to taste the smell of fresh flowers, and she swears she can taste a little bit of cherry, too. “Wow,” she laughs, smiling into her cup. “This is… really good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you would like it,” he explains, his own cup untouched on the table. “It’s a dessert sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, relaxing back into his seat. “Only that I have seen how you sustain yourself on those energy drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs, rolling her eyes. “I need energy for all the hot girl shit I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes another drink as Takemura watches her intently. “I don’t understand,” he says, V raising an eyebrow curiously, peeking over her cup. “What does it mean? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hot girl shit?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly pulls the cup away with one hand, throwing her hand over her face with the other, trying to not spit the sake out in laughter. Once recovered, she clears her throat. “It’s a saying. That’s all. Means uh…” V tries to think of a way to explain the concept. Fuck. It’s a bit hard, actually. “Uhh… hot girl shit is kind of like when a… a badass. A woman who doesn’t give a fuck about being agressive to do what she needs to.” She mulls it over. “Wakako!” She offers. “Wakako does heaps of hot girl shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. So… stealing the relic and putting it inside your head is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot girl shit?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shrinks a little at the suggestion. “Not… not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>specifically, no.” She exhales. “Maybe if it’d got out alive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am teasing you,” he assures her with a smile. “I have witnessed you do much </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot girl shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>with my own eyes.” She watches as he finally takes a drink of his own, taken with the way he makes fun of her. She always is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A figure appears in the corner of her vision. Johnny, glitching across from them, pacing back and forth like he has somewhere to be. “You’ve had your sake, you’ve taught him how to talk like a fucking Dorpher, now let’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a breath, trying to pretend she didn’t see Johnny or hear his demands, trying to focus on Takemura’s smile as he places his cup down. “I always learn something new whenever we meet, V.” There’s a pause. “You are an excellent teacher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet you’re glad you saved my life, huh?” She jokes, setting her cup down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V intends to follow it up with another joke, maybe some more slang, but Takemura stops her, reaching out and brushing a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny audibly scoffs at Takemura, but it does little to draw V’s attention away from the bodyguard, who carefully closes the distance between them and kisses her. It’s gentle, everything about it -- the kiss, the way he gently cups her jaw, and V wouldn’t expect any different from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully pulls back ever-so-much after a moment, a content smile on his face, still holding her face in his hand and delicately smoothing his thumb along the skin of her cheek. “I have wanted to do that ever since we made it out of that safehouse alive,” he says, audibly relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V initiates the next kiss, moving slowly at first, waiting to see if he would set the pace. After a few moments, though, it becomes apparent he might not -- not really surprising given how reserved Takemura is with her at times. She decides to get it rolling, gently placing her hand on his knee, testing the waters. She expects him to flinch. He doesn’t. In fact, the opposite happens. Things escalate, and quickly. His hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, and she shifts to the edge of her seat to get closer to him. She rests one hand at the base of the back of his neck, the one on his knee moving a little higher, squeezing, signalling for an escalation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And an escalation she gets -- Takemura completely surprising her by grabbing her at the waist, standing up and pulling her to her feet, not breaking their ongoing and deepening kisses so much as once. He turns her to rest the back of her against the edge of the table, and then -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, fuck --</span>
  </em>
  <span> he lifts her up onto the table, her legs hanging over the edge on either side of him. She gives a squeak of absolute delight, the sound disappearing into his mouth as he grabs at her hips and pulls her against him. V takes his face in both her hands and kisses him as if she’s been waiting for this for years, decades, and when he groans into her urgency she instinctively rolls her hips against him as he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it carelessly aside and onto the floor in one of the most un-Takemura things she’s ever experienced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you,” Johnny’s voice growls. V’s sure he’s pacing again, agitated as ever with her choices, but she doesn’t care. Johnny thrives off attention and confrontation, and he’s not getting it today. Hopefully he’ll get bored and give up. “Knew you were desperate to feel like you have some value, but this is low, even for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s hands move down from Takemura’s face, fingers working to unbutton his shirt, desperate to finally find out what the rest of his chrome looks like. She wonders for a second if she should give him a second to unzip her dress, but his hands grip the hem of her dress and pull it up, clearing it over her head and arms in two hoists. He isn’t fucking around and the feeling of his hands on her bare skin is enough to make her melt. Johnny, however, seems undeterred by the escalation. “Thought you were different,” he growls, apparently standing right next to her now. Takemura pulls back as little as possible to shrug his shirt off and let it fall to the floor behind him. It gives the two a split second to look at eachother. V is unable to close her mouth, absolutely delighted to take in what’s always been hidden under dress shirts and jackets. She expected him to be fit, but he’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Takemura’s fuckin’ ripped</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the only thought she can manage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura’s seen her in less than her underwear before. He’s seen her naked, he’s seen her with her skull open, brains exposed -- but the sound that rumbles from his throat when he sees her sitting on the table in front of him in her underwear makes her feel like he’s been waiting to see her like this ever since they met, like he’s never wanted anything else. Within a breath, they’re back at each other, hands roaming, hips tilting. He’s either gonna fuck her on the table, or he’s gonna pick her up and take her to the bed like a gentlemen. Either is fine for her. As long as they can-- “but you’re not different, are you?” Johnny growls. “Moaning under a Corpo like a cheap Joy Toy.” She tries again to ignore him, but-- “At least a Joy Toy’s in it for money. Fuck are you in it for? Think this is gonna make you feel less like an empty, failed Solo and more like a human being?” V tries to roll her hips against Takemura again, trying to tempt him to take her, knowing Johnny’s ego won’t allow him to stick around and watch her get railed by someone on Arasaka’s payroll. “Might make you feel better about yourself for half an hour, V, but it ain’t gonna bring Jackie back. Pathetic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” It slips out of her as she slams the palm of her hand against the surface of the table, pulling away from Takemura, causing him to flinch. She knows what she’s done as soon as it happens, freezing up, her head turned away from the very real life person standing between her legs and exhaling, ashamed that she’s given in to the ghost standing beside her. Her shoulders drop and she slouches a little. Goddamnit. She turns her head back to Takemura, her heart sinking at the look of concern on his face. “Sorry… I… It’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The relic,” he finishes for her, granting her a little mercy. “Are you alright?” He’s trying to be calm, but his tone is betraying him. He’s worried about her. She’s thrown him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” V closes her eyes. “He makes things hard for me, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura’s eyes widen for a beat before he gives a nod. “Ah. Yes.” He straightens himself up, allowing V to sit totally upright, and reaches out to brush some more of her hair back. “What about your medicine?” He asks. “If he is upsetting you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I uh…” V finds herself suddenly struggling to make eye contact. “I don’t like doing that,” she explains, speaking low and quickly, sounding as though she’s giving up -- much to Johnny’s surprise. “It’s not fair to him and…” V trails off, freezing up, absolutely stunned by what she’s just said. Not fair on him. It’s not fair on him. He’s here torturing her for no good fucking reason, and she’s worried about blocking him out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s fucked up, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny glitches to the far side of the room, leaning against the wall and silently watching V shake her head and rest her palm on Takemura’s chest. “Goro, I… this is… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> this,” she explains, every hint of the good night she’s otherwise had absolutely vanishing from her disposition. “But… this is all…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura leans in, kissing her forehead and exhaling, throwing her another bone. “It is a complicated situation,” he offers. “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally looks back up at him, smiling, although there’s still hurt in her face that Johnny… doesn’t like. It feels wrong to see, makes him feel like shit for causing it. For the first time, he cares more about V being upset than how shitty it makes him feel via the feedback loop, and  -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not a great sign. “Thank you,” she says softly, leaning into Takemura’s embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will wait as long as you need me to,” Takemura assures her. “You are very much worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny resigns himself to observing as Takemura helps V down from the table, even though she can damn well get down herself, and helps her retrieve her dress from the floor. There’s a lot of shit he’d like to do if he was suddenly given a body, but punching this gonk’s teeth in is somewhere near the top, right after fucking V so hard that she forgets who the fuck this Corpo fucker is or that he ever existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he watches Takemura help V zip her dress up, though, a couple of things dawn on him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First of all -- this Arasaka fucker might, possibly, not actually be doing all this to try and trap them. He might, possibly, by a small margin, actually care about V for some reason. She’s hot, yeah, but she’s a lot of other things than an Arasaka drone should </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’s stubborn, loud, up her own ass, over-confident, arrogant, and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mythic</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secondly -- Johnny might, possibly, by a small margin, be a little bit fucked up about her for those exact reasons. And that’s a problem. A huge, huge fuckin’ problem. He needs to get the fuck out of her head as soon as possible, before this escalates. He’s not an idiot. Johnny knows this isn’t disgust as much as it is jealousy. His first mistake was probably fucking her. ...Not probably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Put his mark on her, made him feel like she’s… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches behind her as she kisses Takemura goodbye and leaves his apartment. No. It’s just bleed, he tells himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just bleed, nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She calls her car, climbing into the driver’s seat as soon as it arrives, closing the door immediately like she’s in a rush. Johnny doesn’t dare glitch into the passenger’s seat with her. Not after that. Not because he doesn’t want to block her out, but because seeing her cry the way she is now sets him off, makes him angry, makes him want to break the legs of whoever’s broken her like that, even despite her stubbornness. It’s hard to break your own legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks into the rear-view mirror, catching sight of Johnny in the back seat. Her face shifts in a way that only seems to happen when people are in the throws of crying, hurt punctuating her anger. “Happy?” She asks, her voice rasping a little. “Not satisfied with killing me, had to be a head-fuck, too?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches away. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Last Train Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(no, this is not the last chapter. we aren't even close.)</p><p>so who are you rooting for? I'm dying to know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You know,” Johnny says, kicking his feet up on her coffee table as she steps out of the bathroom, “for someone who’s apparently the most sought-after lay in Night City, you’re a real fuckin’ downer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stares at him blankly. Usually, Johnny would accompany her into the bathroom if she was showering and wanted to bother her. He’s never had any issues with disregarding her boundaries, so the fact he’s waited until she’s out and at least covered with a towel is… telling. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he pushed way too hard last night. He knows he’s crossed a line that goes beyond his usual brand of shit-stirring and straight into something irreparable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, she crosses the room to her computer desk, eyes locked onto the blockers. She came to a conclusion in the shower -- she’s had enough of his shit for now. Blocking him out bothers her, but right now she’s thinking it’s bleed. She only feels bad about shutting him up because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> does, and unlike him, V has a shred of empathy in her and finds that stuff hard to ignore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, come on,” he says, glitching beside her and leaning on the desk before she can even get her fingers on the bottle. “Don’t block me out V, we should--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk?” She laughs, her voice sounding exhausted. She’s been crying on and off non stop ever since they got into the car. She never used to be this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>squishy</span>
  </em>
  <span> emotionally. Vik mentioned something about a brain injury from all the fucking around he had to do up in there, maybe some light brain damage depending on how things went. It’s probably either that or her absolute mess of a situation catching up with her. “What’s the point, Johnny? It always ends up the same way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picks the bottle up, shaking her head. “We talk, you promise me it’ll get better, and then you do the same shit the next time something doesn’t go the way you want it to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales. “I know I crossed the line, V, but--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you mean you </span>
  <em>
    <span>obliterated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, but you can’t block me out, what about Rogue--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking a page out of your book, Johnny,” she interrupts, dumping a blocker into her hand and dry swallowing it. “Doing something just for me. I’m sure Rogue and I can manage without you until it wears off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches his hands ball up into fists, flexing as he takes a deep breath. There it is, that temper of his. He’s never given a single fuck about anyone other than himself and he has a really hard to pretending to do so. “Fuck, V, I’m trying to do the right thing here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should have kept Jackie’s name out of your mouth, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I talked shit about your choom,” he says quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around, moving to her rack of clothes. “No you’re not,” she argues. “You’re just sorry I’ve finally had enough of your shit.” She exhales, beginning to pick her outfit out. “It’s like you’re so up your own ass that you can’t control yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His response is… different from what she expects. Usually, when their conversations wade into this territory, it turns into a screaming match. Johnny will shout, insult her, act like he can punch through a wall, and even threaten V to get his way before eventually growing board and agreeing with her just to shut it up. But this time his voice is low, soft, a distinct gravel to it that makes her think that he hopes she won’t hear him. “Don’t like hurting you, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around to try and see him, try and figure out if that was actually genuine or if he’s rolling his eyes at her -- but he’s gone. She wonders if he’s glitched away as usual, but then she feels the tell-tale drip of blood from her nose, a sign that the blockers have kicked in. She hates these things. What she gains in peace and quiet, she loses in side effects like blood noses, headaches, and light sensitivity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though, V enjoys her ‘morning’ (she didn’t get out of bed until lunch time, but she has a brain injury, fuck being productive.) Without Johnny, she’s able to enjoy a little bit of normality. She has a coffee, cleans some weapons, and even manages to exchange some messages with Takemura without having to hear the phrase ‘corpo dog.’ Takemura tells her she’s not obligated to respond, but that in itself makes her happier to. A man who respects boundaries? You can tell he’s not from Night City. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of her is tempted to use this time to respond to River, finally. Maybe call him, cut him loose, come clean that she doesn’t really have any illusions that it’ll ever work out the way he’d like it to -- but something stops herself from committing to hitting send on anything she writes. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and so committed to the right things… it feels wrong. How could she even explain it to him? As much as she hates to admit it, Johnny’s right about what River wants from V. At least she thinks so, anyway. How do you explain to a man who wants you to be part of a homestead life that you’ve ended up hooking up an ex-Arasaka bodyguard who pulled your corpse out of landfill? How do you even begin to fully explain Johnny and living two lives at once to someone who’s life can’t afford to be more complicated than putting food on the table for his family?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t, that’s how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, her holo begins to beep. Rogue. Luckily she’s about 3 hours into the blockers and they’ll start to wear off by the 4 hour mark -- Johnny will be absolutely fucking livid if he’s not around to provide his constant fucking commentary when Rogues involved. Not that she really gives a shit how Johnny feels about it right now. She’s more worried about what a pain in the ass he’ll be. She accepts the call. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got to the bottom of Ebunike,” Rogue announces, not wasting any time with small talk. “Flicked pings to some old contacts. Grayson buzzed familiar for a friend from the olden days. He did some digging. Found something,” she explains. Section of the docks that’s Maelstrom turf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found Grayson?” V asks, sitting herself up properly from her couch-slouch. “He really got an in with Smasher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue opens her mouth, but stops short of speaking, pausing. “You alright?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” V assures her quickly. “Just had a… big one last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got red on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V lifts her fingertips to her face, dabbing under her nose. Another nosebleed, perfectly timed, as always. “Shit,” she says under her breath, rolling her sleeve over her wrist and trying to wipe it away. “It’s fine. Blockers do this, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue raises an eyebrow. “Blockers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sometimes I gotta--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what they do,” she says quickly. “Johnny told me all about it.” There’s a pause and V expects to get chewed out by the Fixer for blocking out her friend, but, to V’s surprise, she laughs. “That bad, huh?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V blinks. Not the reaction she expected, and she never thought she’d ever hear Rogue laugh, but she’s appreciative for the support nonetheless. “He’s just…” she trails off, wanting to put it politely, be political -- but there’s a part of her wrestling with the idea of just telling Rogue everything. Johnny won’t listen to V and doesn’t give a fuck about how she feels, but he’s got Rogue up on a pedestal that gives her some hold over him. “I don’t think I’ve gotta’ tell you what he can be like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An asshole?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods, the shit Johnny said to her the night before ringing through her head. She thinks about how she </span>
  <em>
    <span>slept</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him and he still hurt her like that with zero hesitation and her chest tightens with anger. “That’s one way of putting it, yeah.” For a moment, V’s unable to look at Rogue. She’s scared she might look as hurt as she feels, and it’s not something she’s ready to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she does eventually harden up and look at the holo, she catches the tail end of… something on Rogue’s face. Concern, maybe? V’s unsure, and she doesn’t catch enough of it to really pinpoint it. Rogue’s too cool to give away too much. Probably pity, honestly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” she advises. “Guy’s a nightmare. I’m sure he had it coming.” She shrugs. “Honestly? Sometimes you just have to put him in timeout. Alt worked that out pretty quickly, glad you have.” V flinches a little at the mention of Alt, how there’s a tinge of salt in Rogue’s tone when she brings her up. “Come see me. Meet me at Afterlife,” she instructs. “We’ll talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The holo cuts. V, frankly, is shocked that conversation just happened. With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rogue</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people. Christ -- buddying up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rogue like this? If only Jackie’d been here to see this. Johnny Silverhand in her head, Rogue Amendiares calling her directly and giving her </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal advice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> job requests coming in left, right and centre? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would have hated Takemura, though. He and Johnny would have that much in common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes her head quickly like she’s trying to shake the thought away and stands up, making a beeline to the bathroom to finish cleaning up the nosebleed. Unlike </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jackie let V make her own choices. Jackie wouldn’t have harassed her over it -- he’d probably try to have a quiet word with her during one of their heart-to-hearts and left it at that. He was probably the only person who would have been able to talk her out of it, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly grabs a wipe from the bathroom counter and wipes the blood from her face. If Jackie were still here, she wouldn’t be in this mess at all, would she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaves her apartment, making sure to pocket her blockers along the way, unsure if she wants to use them and trying to put the whole thing to the back of her mind. When Johnny glitches into the back seat of her car 10 minutes later, however, the blockers find their way back to the forefront. “You really have to talk shit about me to Rogue like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t talking shit, it was empathy,” she spits back, shifting gears. “You should try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I was sorry,” he argues, stretching out and somehow managing to take up the entire back seat. “Not a lot else I can do, V.” She doesn’t respond, and she can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> his frustration. “Would it help if I told you I don’t actually think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which part?” She asks, rolling her eyes. “The part where you called me a cheap Joy Toy, or the part where you insulted my friend’s memory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of it. I was mad and… look, you know I can be--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were mad?” she laughs over the top of him. “Why? Because I was finally doing something for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t like Takemura and you still can’t get it through your head that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> body?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes an especially hard corner, part of her hoping it might jostle him a little in the back seat -- but nothing. Of course not. She keeps trying and it never happens. “I just…” he takes another deep breath, exhaling. “I’m not good at this shit,” Johnny says under his breath, before glitching into the passenger’s seat beside her. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt or fucked around and… maybe…” he grits his teeth. He’s forcing the words out. “Maybe I… I’ve got a shitty temper. You know that. Sometimes I go too far.” He’s gazing out the window, arms crossed, avoiding looking at her. She’s a little taken aback, honestly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You only care because me feeling like shit makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel like shit.” It’s like she’s trying to convince herself more than anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice raises about, frustration leaking through his tone again. “I actually give a shit about you, V,” he insists, glancing at her for a second before returning his gaze to the window as they pull up at Afterlife. “That so hard to believe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s jaw tenses. This is… new. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounds</span>
  </em>
  <span> genuine, but he’s sounded genuine about a lot of shit before. He sounded genuine the last time he apologised to her, too, but here they are: square one. She turns the car off, stepping out without a word, making her way into Afterlife without stopping -- apparently communicating through her body language that she has shit to do, too, because this time she doesn’t skip the line. The line moves </span>
  <em>
    <span>out of her way.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The only person she bothers to even acknowledge on her way to Rogue is Claire. Hell, even Rogue doesn’t get much small talk out of V until they’re leaving the club, Rogue bringing V up to speed. She doesn’t doubt for a second Rogue can tell she’s in a shitty mood, but with Johnny at her fuckin’ heels, there’s nothing she can do about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evidentially, Rogue </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> pick up on it. She stops at the back of her car, looking over her shoulder to V, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. “This might cheer you up,” she says, clicking the trunk open. “Got you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trunk opens, the jacket inside laid out perfectly, indicating that Rogue was planning this all along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps towards the trunk, the Samurai logo on the back telling her close to everything she needs to know about why Rogue’s decided to give her this. Johnny has glitched himself next to the car. There’s something on his face, but he doesn’t seem angry. He’s… something about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Johnny’s?” She asks, lifting it out of the trunk and holding it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Replica. Made-to-order,” Rogue explains. She watches as V pulls her regular sweater off, waiting for Rogue to nod and grant her permission before tossing it in the trunk and putting the leather jacket on. “Real thing must have disintegrated into dust years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V takes a second, smoothing her left hand over the leather of the right sleeve. It’s heavy, but warm. Sturdy. Definitely feels like something Johnny might wear. “...Thanks.” Rogue doesn’t respond verbally, just nodding and opening the driver’s door, climbing into the car and gesturing for V to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she rounds the car to reach the passenger’s side, Johnny waits, standing in place, eyes on her. V could walk right through him, but something stops him. There’s something on his face, and it takes a few seconds for her to identify it because it’s so foreign. A smile. A teeny, tiny smile. “Finally,” he says, voice softer than usual, as though he’s worried someone else might somehow hear him. “Looking half decent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay there for a second, neither of them really seeming sure what to say, and, in V’s case, how to feel. Her cheeks warm up a little. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to smile, something in her chest compelling her to do so, but she suppresses it. Johnny, however, can make out the tug of a smile in her expression. She’s pretending not to feel a certain way, and while he really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to call her out on it, he knows better than to push now. Especially with Rogue around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Johnny glitches away, V climbing into the passenger’s side beside Rogue, their journey beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Rogue says, glancing at V momentarily, “what does Johnny say about me?” She smirks as she turns a corner. “Know you two talk a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks about it. Johnny, does, of course, talk about Rogue. A lot. While he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything juicy or off centre about her, he doesn’t need to. If V can’t pick up on it through their little feedback loop or hasn’t seen it in a memory, she can read between the lines. “Says your the best,” she replies, knowing damned well that something happened there, even without knowing the specifics. Then again, V can assume that ‘something happened’ between Johnny and most women he’s come into contact with. “Always were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue laughs, shooting V another glance. There’s something in her eyes, this weird, friendly familiarity that she didn’t expect to ever see from the final boss of Fixers. “Too bad being the best comes with a price,” she laughs. She turns another corner, eyes fixed back on the road. “Christ,” she laughs again at a joke she hasn’t shared yet. “Look at you. Of all the people for Johnny to get stuck in the head of.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, kid. You deserve better. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V smiles, shrugging. “Look, he’s not that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Rogue assures her. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s that bad. You don’t have to be political with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V takes a long breath. She wants to argue, but she knows better. Everything is fucking political when it comes to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>At no stage during this entire ordeal did V expect to be wearing Johnny Silverhand’s clothes, driving his car, shooting his gun, or wearing his dog tags. She never expected that she’d have sex with him during a moment of weakness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of all, though, she never expected she’d be standing at his grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence is absolutely agonising. It’s cold, it stings her in the chest -- although she’s not sure if that’s her or… V inhales carefully. The stinging is coming from him. It’s what Johnny’s feeling. Not her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing here at all,” he finally mutters, sitting on the pile of tin that sits on the edge of the concrete slab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits on the pile of tin opposite, trying desperately to find something to say. “What’d you expect?” She asks, trying to stay at least level emotionally, trying to untangle her own feelings from his. God, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so hard.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Where the fuck does he end and her own empathy begin? “Headstone? Flag and flowers?” She’s not sure he’ll take her question well, as sincere as it is, but this is something he wants to talk about. She can feel it. It’s awful, but for once, too much for him to compress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, and for the first time in all her knowing him, Johnny… is flat. Low. He hunches over, his elbows on his knees, looking down at the concrete, his voice quiet, faltering a little. “I’unno. A marker? ...Something. Anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think those are empty gestures?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Guess I don’t. Thought I’d feel like I’d closed a chapter here.” She’s taken aback a little by his honesty. Usually, even when he was being completely honest, he put his own spin on it. A ‘front’ as he’d call it with her. “Like I’d said goodbye to the old Silverhand, hello to the new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new Silverhand. New. Fuck, if this is the ‘new’ him, then the old… she puts the thought aside. Not now. V decides she’ll come back to that later. Criticising Johnny doesn’t seem like a priority anymore. “So how </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I never even was.” He pauses. “Like I was still inside Mikoshi.” There’s a tinge of venom on the final word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stares at the slab as the two sit in silence, the sting in her chest getting worse and worse, forcing her to think about how close she came to the same fate. It wasn’t that long ago she was discarded in that landfill, left to rot and be forgotten. If Takemura hadn’t found her… no -- if she hadn’t had the relic to give her a final jumpstart…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances at Johnny. Unlike V, he was someone. He’d done things, meant something to people. What had V meant before the heist? Once Jackie had died, who would have even remembered her? Vik and Misty, yeah, but when you’re in their business, dead Solos are part of the day to day. There would have been nothing, no one. She would have faded away and ceased to exist. It’s what they’d clearly tried to do to Johnny -- toss his body out and hope he’d fade away, pour concrete over him so nothing could be recovered. Hide all physical evidence so that after long enough, no one could even prove he was more than an idea or a concept created by an ideology. Have to be dead to become a martyr, and in Night City? No one’s really dead until there’s a corpse to prove it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches down, picking up a shard of some kind of metal from the concrete. “We’ll figure something out,” she announces decisively, before finding a spot beside her and beginning to carve. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>JS2023</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better now?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the inscription for a moment. Her handiwork is shit, but it’s legible at least. “A bit,” he admits. “Let’s say it was my real grave,” he begins, the words sounding stilted as they come out, like even </span>
  <em>
    <span>saying</span>
  </em>
  <span> those words is a wakeup call to reality. “What would you write?” he asks. “Here lies Johnny Silverhand…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny clearly expects V to finish the sentence for him. If he’d asked her this even a few hours ago, she would have said something different. She would have called him an asshole. A fuckboy. If she’d been in a good mood, might have even made a joke about his dick. But she doesn’t, and her response is almost like a reflex. “The guy who saved my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V…” he stops himself, taking off his glasses. V feels something new, and she’s not sure what to call it, but it makes her stomach drop. Her jaw feels funny. There’s a spike of adrenaline. “You don’t know how much I want that to be true.” He stands up, taking a couple of steps onto the slab of concrete before stopping to stand before her. “Listen. I know that I fucked up a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of things.” It absolutely makes sense, of course, but it’s never something she’s ever expected to hear from him. “I’ve either let down or used every last person who gave me their trust.” He pauses. “Blind, selfish bastard that I was.”  V realises that she’s trembling, arms shivering, tensing involuntarily. Johnny’s never been this open before, not with her. “But I’ve managed one thing for now. Not to fuck this up, what we have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares at him, her eyes wide. She has absolutely no idea what the fuck to say to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. What does he mean by that? Does he mean as friends? Or as a co-worker kind of thing? Or…? No. Definitely a survival thing is what he means. As in he hasn’t gotten her killed. She’s sure--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you’re still mad at me, which is fair,” he adds. “But you brought me here. Didn’t have to do it. That’s good for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh fuck. Oh fuck he </span>
  <em>
    <span>means</span>
  </em>
  <span> it like… something. He means something. She clears her throat, trying to reorganise her priorities. It’s good for something. “It’s been a uh… long, bumpy road,” she finally says. “But we made it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down beside her. “Most of the people I thought were my friends couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me,” he says. V should, again, be dumbstruck by this level of confession, but she isn’t. It fucking rips through her. Bleed be damned, it’s hitting her in the heart. A punch to the chest. “You’re fuckin closest to me by a long shot.” Another punch. “There twenty-four-seven.” He takes a second to pull a cigarette out of his infinite pack, placing it between his lips and lighting it. They aren’t even real, and V’s come to learn it’s more about the habit than the nicotine fix, but this is… this is a mask. Gives him something to do with his hands. Something familiar and comforting in the face of brutal, cold, and foreign reality. “And yet… you don’t seem to hate my guts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish we’d always been able to talk like this,” V admits. “Would have made things...” she trails off. ‘Easier’ is the wrong word. Things were never going to be easy between them, even if they had learned to communicate early. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never found the right moment.” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “Remember waking up at Viktor’s? Not knowin’ about me?” V suddenly hears her own voice, almost like recordings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m seeing things! I’m scared!</span>
  </em>
  <span> They aren’t her memories. A shiver runs down her spine. They’re Johnny’s, and they’re fucking vivid. “Moaning at Misty’s about how you didn’t wanna die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember you whining for smokes in the middle of the night?” She asks in a half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood, even just a tiny bit, just so she can breathe again. “Complaining about how you couldn’t kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws the cigarette down, discarding it into oblivion as it glitches into nothing, and stands up. “Never thought we’d make it this far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something else here, something unspoken. It’s an elephant in the room, occupying an already small space shared by two people who were already larger than life -- but V is terrified of it, desperate to avoid having to even consider it. “When you said you let your friends down,” she says, trying desperately to pretend her voice isn’t shaking a little, hoping Johnny is kind enough to pretend to not notice it. “Did you mean Rogue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d expected a little more hesitation, but Johnny gives none. “Rogue, Alt, Kerry, Santiago…” he lists, crossing his arms. His voice is shaking, too. She can’t tell if it’s more bleed. Doesn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not all’s lost yet,” she offers. “At least with Rogue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny looks away. “Can’t pretend nothing’s changed over fifty years.” There’s a pause. It’s a little too long, like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> V to interject. She doesn’t. “Can’t just insert myself into her life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V gives a singular laugh that’s more like a puff of air. “C’mon. You already have,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True.” Johnny falls silent for a moment, staring off into the distance, over V’s head, away from the city behind him. “Y’know, promised I’d take her to the movies. Long, long ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V offers him a soft smile. “Good idea.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Call her for me and ask if she’s free some night?” He asks. “Thing is, you’d have to surrender control -- again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks to the last time she willingly handed control to Johnny. The hangover. The sore everything. The tattoo. ...It’s different now, though. This is… there’s no playfulness to his voice. He’s not trying to convince her. He’s genuinely asking her for help. “Yeah. I’ll call her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok.” Johnny’s voice takes on that same, off tone, the one that shakes a little. Almost sounds like he’s disappointed that she said yes. She knows he’s not, though. He cares about Rogue. V can tell, because she cares about her, too. It starts to rain, dust kicking up from the land around the oil field, the stench of </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of chemical runoff permeating the air. It comes on quick, all at once, with little warning -- like most other things in night city. “Let’s delta,” he finally says. “Nothin’ to see here after all, and I don’t want you to get that jacket soggy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stands up, nodding in agreement. “Worth coming out here, though?” She asks over the thunder. It’s not just rain. A storms coming. How fitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” Johnny says as V pops up the collar of the jacket, like that’ll do anything to protect her from the rain as it rapidly rolls in. “Thanks, V. ...Of all the heads I coulda’ popped up in, hella glad it was yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During their return to the car, V comes to regret parking it further away than she needed to. It seemed like a good idea at the time -- she’d had no idea what was up the road or what to expect -- but five minutes feels more like fifteen in the downpour. Johnny walks alongside her the whole time. He doesn’t have to. She appreciates the gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she reaches the car and climbs into the driver’s seat, she takes a second to find her bearings. She’s soaked, and although Johnny’s jacket has definitely kept her warm, she’s hardly comfortable, either. “Hate having my hair wet,” she remarks, looking at herself in the rear-view mirror as Johnny glitches beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs, although it’s more playful than mean spirited. “We’ll be home soon. You can worry all about your hair crisis then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V reaches forward to start the engine, but something on the back dash catches her eye. A packet of cigarettes in pristine condition. She thinks about what just happened, about the exchange her and Johnny just shared, and makes a decision. “Hey, Johnny,” she says, twisting in her seat and smiling. “Wanna smoke?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, climbing into the back seat. Of course he wants a smoke. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants a smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, glitching into the backseat with her when he realises she’s serious. “Thought you hated it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be the bleed,” she explains with a shrug. It’s not. This is something she’s doing for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They both know that, but neither of them say anything, both of them too afraid to ruin a good thing. The packet looks new, but it isn’t. The box is without the plastic wrap that comes with a new one, and it’s half smoked. To their luck, there’s already a cheap cigarette lighter inside. One less thing to worry about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V takes a cigarette out and places it between her lips, lighting the end of it, watching Johnny as she inhales. He smiles a little to himself, visibly relaxing a little, the feel and taste and smell of </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> smoke scratching a previous unscratchable itch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two sit in silence, rain buffeting the outside of Johnny’s Porsche, V’s boots kicked up and resting on the centre console, enjoying a moment of peace that feels undeserved or almost stolen. They stay like this for the duration of the cigarette, until V leans forward and reaches out to the ashtray in the centre console, stubbing it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around to address Johnny, who hasn’t moved from his position in the backseat. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully takes her hand in his, and her heart all but stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully and quietly, without a word, he leads her to him, closing any distance between them until their foreheads are touching. His sunglasses are gone, and she’s straddling him, and all either can hear are their own breaths and their heartbeats and the rain pelleting on the roof of the car. She braces the backseat behind him, and his hands cup her face, fingers lacing into her hair. Something, somewhere changed tonight. Something finally clicked, slid into place, and it’s all of a sudden like they can see what’s been there the whole time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V knew, deep down, that this was there. So did Johnny. It’s always been there, lingering below the surface, growing, developing in the two most stubborn people in the world who were always going to pretend it didn’t exist until the last possible moment in the backseat of a Porsche. But it was always there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he kisses her, it feels like the single realest thing in the world, to both of them. They’ve been able to touch before, something only the two of them can do, but this… is different. They both forget the shit they’re in, they forget she’s dying, they forget he’s not physically real. It’s like he’s really there. She swears to god that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The kisses are slow, lingering, each of them like they could be the last one before one of them realises what a terrible mistake it is they’re making right now. It’s probably inadvisable to develop feelings for the engram in your head, or the person who’s body is hosting you like some kind of parasite, but as V peels off Johnny’s jacket, the thoughts fall to the wayside along with the rest of her clothes until she’s completely naked, hair wet, his dog-tags resting on her chest along with the bullet that started everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, she’s beautiful.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s the same thing he thought when he first saw her, when he first realised he was in her body and saw her reflection. Back then, it triggered an anger in him, unexplainable at first, but one he realised was the fear that he’d have to experience being treated the same way that he used to treat women when he was alive, that being trapped in someone so gorgeous was some kind of cosmic retribution. Now, though? He can’t understand how the fuck he lucked out like this. Unlike last time, he’s gentle when he takes her. There’s no degrading her or name-calling or choking this time, no. How could there be? This isn’t the first woman he’s had who he’s wanted to cherish, but this is the first one he’s been willing to admit to himself that he cherishes. She’s changed him -- she makes him </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s slow. They try to be gentle, but there’s a firmness to their movements, neither of them wanting to let go of eachother, scared this might slip through their fingers. She sighs into his ear and he moves his head to seize another kiss. Her kisses are incredible. He can’t believe he denied himself this. V is far from perfect and that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>makes </span>
  </em>
  <span>her so fucking perfect. Most people who get to know Johnny even a little end up being disgusted with him, loathing him. But V? V knows everything about him. V knows him better than anyone can possibly know someone in normal circumstances and, somehow, despite that, she doesn’t hate him at all. The opposite. She’s actually in--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops that thought as though V has telepathically shushed him, rolling her hips against him, moaning his name in a way that’s so quiet and gentle that it sounds more like she’s pleading with him than anything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re thinking too much.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She keeps riding him, the pace remaining slow and consistent, V revelling in how his hands want to touch and feel every part of her as though she’s just as likely to vanish as he is. This isn’t just sex. It’s different, something special that she doesn’t know if anyone’s had from Johnny before. His hands and arms don’t pin her down or throw her around anymore, now holding her, cradling her as she arches back and holding her upright as her legs begin to shake. His mouth doesn’t berate her, words not trying to beat her into the ground with poison. Instead he says her name and it feels like a weight that’s been pressing on her chest is finally gone. Last time their bodies were synchronised, but this time there’s more. Parts of V that she didn’t even understand are finding themselves in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they both begin reaching their peak, the grips become firmer, the kisses more desperate, but every move remains meaningful. It’s not about getting off this time. It’s about being as close to each other as possible, about soaking up every feeling and emotion and thought that each other has to offer. They finally reach it together, but there’s no swearing or shouting, just choking on moans that escape their chests as they kiss each other, V gripping the sides of his head in her hands, Johnny holding her by the waist desperately in order to keep her upright. V’s whole body trembles, breathless as she collapses against him, feeling like every muscle in her body is able to finally release tension she didn’t even know they were holding. The feeling of her body completely against him, trembling as they both come in what feels like an ongoing loop thanks to the bleed is something he’s unsure how he’s ever lived without. The softness of her skin, the smell of her hair, the sound of her voice… it’s everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhausted, she rests against him, slowly finding her breath again and listening to him find his. The rain keeps on outside, and V doesn’t move. They stay there in the backseat, Johnny sprawled out and V draped against his chest, an arm around her. Neither says anything. They don’t need to. They’ve long passed the need for words. V has, for all intents and purposes, never felt more wanted in her life. Johnny hasn’t, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They remain there until the rain lets up. V even drifts off to sleep a few times, unable to resist the call during such a period of contentment. The world outside the car is uncertain, full of questions -- even more now that they’ve crossed this point of no return -- but for now, this is perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, it’s a reprieve from what was and what is to come. It’s what the two of them need, and, for now, it’s enough. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Never Wanna Be In Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short chapter again! I promise, again, that the next one will be longer. </p><p>thanks so much for your comments. They've given me a lot to think about and... consider...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Johnny can’t think of the last time things were so… so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> with someone. Not much has really changed between him and V in their day-to-day, at least on the surface, but it’s easier now. Smoother. They’re more in sync with each other, and while they’re hardly holding hands on their way to a shootout, Johnny’s able to put his arm around her in quieter moments while they wait for contacts to show up, while she eats, while she recovers from the seizures that the relic gives her. No one else can see it, which removes some of the meaning behind a public display of affection, but it still means something to her, at least. It’s nice. They aren’t pretending anymore. Don’t have to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V doesn’t bring it up with anyone, really. She doesn’t need to. No one needs to know that they have a… thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s until she visits Panam, that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam knows about Johnny. V had managed to keep it to herself, somehow, even after finding Hellman. But over time she quickly became the closest thing V had to a best friend and… well, picking up on Johnny’s voice when they were linked up in the Basilisk was the giveaway. Panam, however, </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that V has had sex with him -- or something like that, and she doesn’t know that there’s any kind of relationship there beyond what’s necessary for their situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Panam </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> know about Takemura, and Panam, despite insisting she doesn’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” the Nomad says, handing V a beer and sitting on the back of the Warhorse. V doesn’t really have any pressing business with the Aldercados, but she finds herself drifting back to their camp every now and then, looking for Panam’s company, enjoying the idea of a community that cares about its people more than it cares about eddies. Johnny calls the visits ‘decompression sessions.’ “How are things with your friend?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in order to communicate </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> who she’s referring to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re… uh…” V exhales. It’s something that both her and Johnny have avoided, despite their newfound level of peace and synchronicity. V doesn’t want to upset Johnny, and Johnny doesn’t want to upset V. She clears her throat. “It’s complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so complicated about it?” Panam asks, taking a sip of her drink. “From everything you have told me, it’s going well… unless something has happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V purses her lips together. On one hand, her current situation is really, really fucking weird -- almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird to tell Panam about. On the other, Panam is, really, the person she trusts the most with this kind of stuff. She hesitates, looking to Johnny, who’s sitting on the back of the Warhorse with them, his arms spread and draped over the edge. “Should tell her, V,” he suggests. “She’s a real one. Don’t think she’s gonna judge you like you think she will.” He looks out over the horizon. “Sides, know telling the corpo’s been eating at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods to herself, not game to look Panam in the eye. “I uh. Well. You know how… you know about Johnny, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I forget?” Panam laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well…” V exhales, wishing she had a cigarette. ...Which is new. She’ll unpack that later. “Johnny and I… uh…” V takes a sip of her beer, staring straight ahead, well aware that Panam is watching her now, curious about what’s making V so nervous. “We mighta…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Panam raises an eyebrow expectantly, but when V finally returns eye contact, they do that thing women do that freaks Johnny out a little, where they’re able to communicate without any words, just eye contact. “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” Panam takes a second, eyes wide and still locked on V as she takes a mouthful of her beer. “How does that work?” V merely shrugs in response. “Is it… normal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V can’t help but laugh at the question. “I mean, he feels ‘real’ if that’s what you’re asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” She sits the bottle down, nodding to herself. “I have many questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go nuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s another moment before Panam finally speaks again, presumably because she does, </span>
  <em>
    <span>indeed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a lot of questions. “How did this come to be?” She asks. “After the incident with your other friend, I thought that your friendship was strained.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V glances to Johnny again, as if asking for permission, but he’s already nodding, one step ahead. “Well… we uh… we’d already--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Panam blurts. “When?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After the parade,” she explains. “Was feeling down. Guess he decided to cheer me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam shakes her head, although she’s still smiling, clearly amused. “Men,” she says flatly. There’s another pause, Panam taking a second. “Does this mean that you willl end things with Takemura?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shifts a little, tapping her nails along the neck of her beer bottle. “Guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam opens her mouth to speak, hesitating, stopping herself before speaking carefully. “V, we are friends, are we not?” She waits for V to nod in the affirmative before continuing. “I… I am unsure how to say this without offending you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She instinctively glances to Johnny, who’s crossed his arms, like he’s preparing for something he doesn’t want to hear. “Shoot,” V finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not pretend I fully understand your situation,” she begins, keeping her eyes fixed to the horizon, speaking slowly, “and you are my friend, and I will always support your decisions. But… do you think…” she stops herself, re-selecting her words. “What will happen to you now?” She asks. “My understanding is that Johnny Silverhand is a program, and I’m not wishing to judge, but--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little more complicated than that,” V quickly says. “He… it’s… the relic is…” she takes a deep breath. “It’s not a cut and dry program, so to speak. It’s not hardware, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Panam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. But he cannot stay in your head,” she points out. “You’ve told me this. So what is the plan?” She asks. “I know things are developing, but you must have some kind of goal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s jaw tenses. This instinctively feels like an attack, but she knows Panam better. If Panam really had a problem, she would have said it. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>concern.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Ideally?” V says. “We find a way to get Johnny his own body. Get him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if there isn’t a way to do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny opens his mouth, but V responds before he can say anything. “I refuse to accept there isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so sure?” Panam asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has to be,” V insists. “They wouldn’t have this kinda’ tech if there wasn’t something to use it with. Why would Araska push the Save Your Soul program if they didn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>something?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny finally pipes in. “Because they’re greedy corpos,” he suggests. “Counting their eddies before they’re made. Over promise, under deliver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam seems as unconvinced as Johnny, but she doesn’t linger on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny sure does, though, silently, doing his best to bury it. Him and V haven’t really discussed the whole thing as far as what happens if there isn’t a happy ending for them. He wouldn’t call V’s optimism blind faith, but it’s a special kind of stubbornness that he innately understands, the same stubbornness he had when trying to find Alt. Twice in a row, too. Didn’t learn his lesson the first time, and seeing it in V is… worrying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust your decisions,” Panam assures V. “I just want you to make sure you are ready for if things go wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V feels a little tinge of frustration at Panam’s comment. She can understand why Panam feels that way, and gets where she’s coming from, but it sting nonetheless. She knows there has to be a way. It’s Night City. There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> a way in the end if you know the right people, or have enough eddies, or can run fast enough. There has to be. Instead, though, she decides to keep things light. “But you’ll be there to pick me up if it does, </span>
  <em>
    <span>riiiight?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She teases, holding her beer glass up, waiting for a toast that Panam obligates with a smile and roll of her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” They both drink, continuing the conversation, Panam asking questions about how V is going to break it to Takemura, asking what happened to the boy from the trailer park, asking what her secret is when it comes to men. Johnny finds himself tuning most of it out, though. He’s unable to stop thinking about what happens if things </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> go wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny had, initially, come to accept that if they had to make a choice, he’d give her body up. He is, of course, still set on doing that if he has to. It’s not a question to him, and now that things are the way they are between them, he’s absolutely ready and willing to do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat. The thought of anything else fills him with a feeling that he hasn’t felt since finding Alt’s body---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This has complicated shit, hasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If push comes to shove, he’s gonna take the fall for her, and it’s gonna hurt V. It’s gonna change her. Irreparably stain something inside her, get under her skin and pick her apart until all that’s left is the anger that’s keeping her alive. It’ll change her like losing Alt changed him. He watches her smile and joke with Panam, thinking about the person she is, why he makes her feel the way he does, why she seems to be the only person who completely and utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets</span>
  </em>
  <span> him in some fucked up, cruel twist of fucking fate. He can’t ruin that. He can’t let anything ruin that. He needs to protect her from that ugly fucking process at all costs, it’s his job. It’s your responsibility when you love someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No point lingering on that. Not much he can do to change his own feelings, and he can’t really act like he’s surprised, either. Always fell a little too hard for women who didn’t take his shit, women who gave him some kind of feeling, kept him on his toes and shielded him from boredom. Alt, Rogue, V -- all of them happy to call him out for being a piece of shit, Johnny happy to hear it because he was too proud to admit it and say it to himself. He’s not gonna let his pride win this time, though. He’s gonna do the right thing, save V from the relic and from herself. He needs to, or he’s not gonna be at peace when the time comes to really, truly delta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stays silent for the rest of their visit, waiting until V is done sharing drinks with her choom and back in her apartment a few hours later. He glitches back in, watching her sit on the edge of her bed and kick her boots off. She looks up to him, a smile on her face, apparently glad to see him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck that’s gonna make this shit hard.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He decides to rup it off like a bandaid. “You called Rogue yet?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, fuck,” she says with a sharp inhale. “Sorry, I forgot. But I can--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you?” He asks quickly, not looking at her, an impatience to his voice. “Soon? Promised her that date.” V frowns a little as he talks. “She’s not gonna put out if we keep her waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V waits for a punchline, wanting to assume it’s a joke, but it never comes. He stands there, crossing his arms now, sunglasses on, eyes fixed on the view outside her window. He seems rigid, cold. Like they aren’t… </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>what,</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> V?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Something. It’s like they aren’t… whatever it was that she thought they were. It’s like he’s Johnny fucking Silverhand, like he’s always been. Like she’s fucked up and fallen for the tricks the bleed plays on her. Like she’s felt something that wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” she blinks a couple of times, nodding, looking away from him and pursing her lips together. “Yeah, sure. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.” She tries to sound like it’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be. It isn’t. She’d already told him she would, after all. She’s always known they were a thing. She’s always known that this is what he does. But instead of sounding like it’s totally cool, with her, her voice is just… quiet. Crackling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny glitches away and V immediately shoots to her feet, deciding she desperately needs a shower, right now, tossing her clothes on the floor along the way. As soon as she’s under the water, she lets herself a couple of tears. Not a lot. He doesn’t deserve those, and honestly, she’s more mad at herself than him. This is just Johnny, it’s who he is, and she’s always known that. She’s better than this. The fuck is wrong with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smart crying in the shower. It’s harder to tell that she’s crying under the water, of course, and it’s harder to hear her voice shake over the pipes -- but Johnny knows she is, even without glitching into the room. He can feel it. And it feels like shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to her word, she calls Rogue the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She calls Takemura, too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Twilight Bay City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the radio-silence. I'm baaaaaaack. ;)</p><p>(also I know that's not generally how the -Sama honorific works but idk how it works when you're talking about 3 people with the same family name and need to differentiate because my japanese is like, drunk-conversations with some old dudes in a dodgy nightclub in roppongi level japanese so uh i hope this is okay?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I had not expected to hear from you so soon,” Takemura admits, watching V kick a little bit of gravel aside as they walk. They met, on his suggestion, in Reconciliation Park. He was desperate to see some trees, and V was desperate to be out of her apartment. “I thought that the engram bothered you too much. I am glad to know I was wrong.”</p><p>V smiles at him, pleased to know Takemura doesn’t feel awkward or slighted after the way things went last time they saw each other. “Can’t always let Johnny ruin a good thing,” she jokes. “Then he wins.”</p><p>“Wins?” Takemura asks. “Are things that bad?”</p><p>She takes a second to consider her response. Is she angry at him? Yes. Furious, even. She knows she’s an idiot and that it’s absolutely, completely and utterly within Johnny’s character to use a vulnerable moment like that to catch some tail -- but he’s been quieter. Almost silent, actually. He’ll glitch in every now and then, but he doesn’t say much. He’s been that way since he asked her to call Rogue again. Probably worried that she’ll rat him out to his hot date if he crosses the line again. “I mean, they’re <em> better, </em> but they’re not <em> good, </em> no.”</p><p>Takemura nods as they round a corner, taking the park in at a leisurely pace. “This does not surprise me. He was a terrorist. A murderer.” His voice gets a little stronger as he says this, a little anger in there, but nothing V needs to worry about. He’s angry at the memory, not the present. “I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it must be having such a person inside your head.”</p><p>She expects Johnny to pop up and say something, to argue that statement like he usually does, make a joke about having been inside more than V’s head -- but there’s nothing. Just silence. It’s… unnerving, despite being convenient. “It’s definitely not easy,” she agrees. There’s a part of her that wants to tell Takemura that Johnny’s changed a little, that he’s not the monster that the Corpo flavored Kool Aid says he is, but she sees little point. When you’ve bought into Arasaka the way Takemura has, there’s no hope of changing your mind about Johnny without meeting him. </p><p>She takes a deep breath, her eyes darting around momentarily, making sure Johnny isn’t about to glitch in and ruin her day. “Listen, I… I wanted to apologise for how things went,” she says. “When we had dinner. I. Uh.” Her shoulders drop, the two of them slowly coming to a stop along the side of the path. “I’m not great at this stuff,” she says under her breath.</p><p>“Apologise for what?” </p><p>“Freaking out,” she responds, a nervous smile on her face. “You’re… you’re really…” she looks for the word. “Good. You’re better than I deserve.” V clears her throat. “I’ve got a lot of baggage. Feel like I wasn’t totally honest with ya’ about it.”</p><p>Takemura shakes his head, taking a step towards her, leaving only a small amount of space between them. “You are worried that you are too difficult,” he suggests. “This is not new.”</p><p>V blinks, staring at him, confused. “It’s not?”</p><p>“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “You apologise often and for little reason.” There’s a pause, before Takemura laughs to himself. “When I first learned you had also worked for Arasaka in your past, I did not believe it. Arasaka agents from the west are not so apologetic.”</p><p>“Lot in my life’s changed since then,” she says with a shrug. </p><p>“You are in exceptional circumstances,” he muses, gesturing for her to begin walking again, following alongside her. “Is it that you blame yourself for them?”</p><p>“I tried to rob <em> Arasaka, </em>” V reminds him. “No one put a gun to my head and forced me to do that.”</p><p>He nods in agreement. “It was foolish. Dumb, as you would put it. But you undertook that endeavor expecting different outcomes. You had agreed to either success or death.”</p><p>V glances at him, a little smile on her face. “And you pulled me out of the garbage instead.”</p><p>“Exactly. You were not, as you would say, ‘down’ for the Relic, or the engram, or anything else that has been demanded of you since.” He chuckles to himself a little. “And yet, you never say ‘no.’ You are stubborn. You accept this as part of your station.”</p><p>It’s her turn to laugh now. “Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.” Takemura stares at V silently until she relents, remembering who she’s talking to. “It’s a friendly way of saying you’re being hypocritical.”</p><p>“Ah,” he nods. “True, perhaps.” He pauses before looking to V, eyeing her for a moment. “You remind me of Hanako-Sama, sometimes.”</p><p>V’s not prepared for this, her eyes widening. “I-- sorry, <em> what?” </em></p><p>“As she is now, not so much,” he explains, “but I have known her since she was a young girl. Around your age, she was the same. There was much placed on her shoulders, especially when Yorinobu-Sama strayed from the family.”</p><p>V’s a little surprised by this revelation. This kind of anecdote feels like something forbidden, like something she, of all people, isn’t meant to hear. “You’ve known Hanako that long?”</p><p>Takemura nods. “Long before I became Arasaka-Sama’s bodyguard, I was assigned to security at the Arasaka family compound. Hanako-Sama spent much time there.”</p><p>“The compound?” V asks. She’s heard of it, of course -- anyone who’s ever dealt with Arasaka’s heard about the fabulous compound, one of the most secure residences in the entire world. It’ll probably be easier to get into Mikoshi than it would be to try and step foot in there. “Heard she wasn’t allowed to leave it.”</p><p>He nods again. “Arasaka-Sama was very protective of her. Her own security detail was more extreme than her fathers until she was old enough to begin making orders of her own.”</p><p>“Hanako and I are nothing alike, though,” V dismisses. “I mean, we both look good with a low bun, but that’s kind of where it ends.”</p><p>“Perhaps, but there is more below the surface,” he continues to explain. “Hanako-Sama never asked for any of the responsibility that was given to her, and there was, for a while, a time where she struggled with the demands of her father. But she never said ‘no,’ never fought it. She would accept all that was expected of her, even when it came at a great personal cost. That, V, reminds me of you,” he says decisively. “You pretend to be totally selfish because that is what you must be to survive, but you are a slave to expectation.”</p><p>The silence after this is long, V processing it, and then realising she’s waiting for Johnny to pop in with some kind of insight or argument or complaint that they’ve been here for so long. It never comes. It makes V feel a little empty, actually. Alone. Has she really gotten so used to him? </p><p>Left to think it over uninterrupted, though, Takemura has a bit of a point. V can definitely think of more than a few examples of her being unable to say no when asked for help, or a favor. Not so much before losing Jackie… but something after that just… “Think I’m just trying to be the person Jackie would have wanted me to be.”</p><p>Another long period of quiet follows, Takemura probably not wanting to pry, V really thinking it over. After a while, she honestly would have welcomed his commentary. Something to bounce off, another perspective other than her own. But he’s done with her now, huh? She gave another piece of herself away to someone and what did she get? Abandonment. Like usual. At least Takemura’s still here. Not bored with her or tired of her, long after she’s finished being useful to him as far as his own goals go. “Takemura?” She asks.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Why?” She takes a second to realign her thoughts as they pass a vending machine, a sign that they’re close to completing their circuit of the park. “I mean, why me? Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” she stops walking, tensing up, dreading this question. “Why me? I just don’t understand what you see here that’s worth all of<em> this.” </em></p><p>He faces here, watching her, his eyes clearly studying her as he thinks. Eventually, though, he raises his hand and gently brings it to the side of her face, cupping it, smoothing a thumb over the skin. “I would ask you the same.”</p><p><em> That, </em> apparently, gets Johnny’s attention. </p><p>He glitches into her field of view, making her jump a little. “Uh--” she looks to Takemura, who’s visibly confused. “It’s Johnny, sorry, I--”</p><p>“You’re in public,” Johnny warns, arms crossed.</p><p>She clears her throat, not really sure of what to say. “I uh…” she looks around. “Can we head that way?” She asks Takemura, pointing towards a block of buildings that they can see beyond the park’s archways. “Really need a drink or something.”</p><p>“Of course,” Takemura agrees, nodding and walking beside her again. This time, though, Takemura’s hand comes to the small of her back, guiding her along. She’s not sure what kind of face she made when Johnny decided to pop up, but it must have spooked the hell out of Takemura, because he’s acting as though there’s some kind of real, tangible threat. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she nods, the relic acting up now, her vision getting a bit fuzzy, but sparing her from a full seizure, “relic’s messing with my optics now, too,” she laughs. “One thing after another, I guess.”</p><p>“Thought we were done with this gonk,” Johnny says, his voice surprisingly flat. The next thing he says sounds just as flat, but it hits her like a fucking bus. “Guess the other night didn’t mean shit, huh?” He asks. “Good. Means I can finally get some closure with Rogue guilt free.” </p><p>She freezes, stopping still in her tracks, her hands balling into fists. How <em> dare </em> he?! He goes cold on her like that, for this long, and then acts like <em> she’s </em> the one it meant nothing to? Like <em> she’s </em> in the wrong somehow?! Really? “No,” she says out loud to herself, trying to keep her voice quiet to avoid embarrassing the visibly concerned Takemura. “Not today.” She reaches into her pocket, taking the bottle of blockers out and dumping three into her hand, tossing them back into her mouth and dry swallowing them in one swift moment. </p><p>“Jesus, V!” Johnny shouts, “you’re only meant to take one at a time!”</p><p>“Let’s go,” she says to Takemura, pretending to ignore Johnny. Takemura wordlessly nods, walking alongside her again, leaving the park with her and heading into the streets of The Glen in search of a drinks machine. By the time they reach a NiiCola machine, her optics are fuzzy again, and she can feel the familiar dizziness of the blockers as they start kicking in. Johnny was probably right about taking three at once -- a bit of overkill, probably, but she’s so upset right now that only extreme acts can do anything to quell the extreme emotions she’s feeling. She taps the button, impatiently waiting as a can finally drops from the machine, rushing to crack it open and drink down the scratchy feeling in her throat that comes with dry swallowing pills. </p><p>And then, as she opens her mouth to assure the extremely worried man standing beside her that she’s okay, the relic <em> completely </em> flips out. There’s a pain that absolutely rips through her skull, her whole body erupting into a cold sweat, her legs turning to jelly before going extremely numb. Her vision turns to frosted glass, and she knows she’s falling, but there’s jack shit she can do to stop herself. Her head hits <em> something, </em> but she’s not sure if it’s the vending machine of the ground. </p><p>When she comes out of the black out, she’s been moved, and is resting against a wall somewhere indoors. “V?” Takemura asks gently, his hands on her shoulder, crouched in front of me. “V?!”</p><p>“I…” She quickly squeezes her eyes shut, her OS beeping, warning her that the relic has had a malfunction. <em> “Fuck,” </em> she winces. V raises her hand to wipe at one of her eyes, and when she withdraws it, there’s blood all over the heel of it. Nose bleed. Massive one. She looks down -- the front of her looks like a crime scene.</p><p>Takemura visibly relaxes at the sight of V regaining responsiveness. “They are getting worse,” he remarks. </p><p>“I mean,” she squeezes her eyes shut again, her optics coming back online and her vision clearing, her voice scratchy, “I <em> did </em> take three blockers.”</p><p>“What?” He asks, disbelief all over his tone. “Why would you--”</p><p><em> “You </em>try having Johnny Silverhand on your ass every time you have a moment,” she says. “I…” exasperated, she exhales, looking around, not wanting to go into it. There’s vending stations for BDs, a check in counter… “This a No-Tell?” She asks. </p><p>He frowns as she says this, clearly not into the implication. “I apologise,” he says. “I merely wished to get you somewhere safer than the street.”</p><p>“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head, raising her clean hand and settling it on his shoulder, “no, it’s… it’s fine. I appreciate it. Better to be passed out in here than the street, you’re right.” She takes a second, looking over his shoulder and at the check in counter. “Can you help me to the counter?” She asks. “Gonna rent a room.”</p><p>“Why?” He asks, obliging her and helping her to her feet anyway. </p><p>“Because I’m covered in blood and I uh…” she purses her lips, looking to Takemura and then the counter. V makes a split decision. <em> Fuck it. </em> “I’m not sure if this is gonna happen again,” she explains. “Would rather pass out somewhere with a bed than on the curb again.” </p><p>With one arm around her, Takemura helps V to the counter, where she quickly taps away at the terminal and rents a room. Realistically, she’ll only need a couple of hours, but she rents it for 12, just in case. That should be enough. More than enough. “Okay,” V sighs to herself. “You’re good to stay with me for a while, right?” She asks, turning to him, locking eyes with him. The look on Takemura’s face is what she’d expected -- surprised, maybe a little overwhelmed, unsure of what to say or do. “You know. In case it happens again.” An excuse, an absolutely bullshit one at that, and they <em> both </em> know it. </p><p>Takemura, however, doesn’t seem to object too much, even given the circumstances. “Of course,” he agrees, watching the terminal transfers the access code for the room to V.</p><p>The elevator ride to their floor is silent, V terrified that Johnny will pop up, or that she’s about to have another seizure. Thankfully, though, it’s without incident, and as soon as the doors open, Takemura guides her into the hall, his hand returning to the small of her back. It’s such a small gesture, but holy <em> fuck </em> if it doesn’t feel like absolutely everything.</p><p>“Not bad,” she says when the door to the room opens. A No-Tell is a No-Tell, but as far as they go, she’s landed a pretty good room. It’s dated and worn down, of course, and the interior is gaudy as ever, but it’s clean. No bodily fluids in sight, and it even <em> smells </em> a little like cleaning products. “Not bad at all.” She enters the room, Takemura following a little hesitantly, pressing the door-lock closed behind him. “I’m gonna go clean up. Wanna order some food or something?”</p><p>“I am uh…” he stands in place, looking around. “I am not familiar with the process.”</p><p>V quickly leads him to the couch, tapping the small holo-panel in the coffee table. “You order here and they send it up with one of those little service drones. Gets charged to my account.” She pauses, smirking. “Never been to a No-Tell, huh?” She teases.</p><p>Takemura sits down on the couch, shaking his head. “No. Not a…” he hesitates. “Not exactly. Something similar, many years ago.”</p><p>“Oh?” She’s unable to help herself, grinning at this little surprise. “You’ll have to tell me about that some time.” With that, she turns around and moves into the bathroom, getting a look at herself in the mirror as she undresses. Yeah, she looks like shit, alright. It looks less like she’s had a nose bleed and more like she’s had a nose explosion. Her eyes are bloodshot. There’s a bruise where her hairline meets her forehead on the right side of her head from where she’s hit her head. Her shirt is a write-off, too, she things as she shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the floor. All her clothes seem to be fucked, spare for her shoes. No point in folding them when she’s just gonna has to throw them out or wash them when she gets home, anyway.</p><p>She steps in the shower, turning the hot water on -- probably a little too hot for someone who just had a seizure, really -- and feels the muscles in her shoulders and neck relax. They always tense up when this happens. Her hair is <em> caked </em> in blood, all stuck together at the ends, so she rinses it out -- not a full wash, but enough to clean the blood off. She doesn’t linger, though, only waiting until the water runs clear again and she’s confident she doesn’t look like a horror BD anymore. Takemura’s waiting. It’s odd. It feels like this is inevitable, and there’s still a chance that he was being sincere about just making she she doesn’t have a seizure in the shower or something… but it’s… exciting in a way she hasn’t felt in a while. </p><p>V shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, quickly toweling her hair off before drying the rest of herself and wrapping the towel around her torso. It’s not exciting because it feels wrong this time, or scandalous, or just really filthy. It’s exciting because it feels right. <em> Kind of sad that it’s an unusual event, huh? </em> Still, a good thing is a good thing, and after the fucking emotional minefield she’s been skirting through, this is a much needed reprieve. </p><p>She catches the shine of Johnny’s dog tags in her reflection and her stomach drops.</p><p>V reaches up, holding them in her hand for a moment, feeling them against her palm, thinking about what he’d said when he gave these to her. Her mind involuntarily jumps to the car, to the back seat, to the way he felt her and how that, at the time, felt <em> right </em> and-- </p><p>She pulls the dogtags over her head, grabbing her jacket and stuffing them in the pocket. No. He doesn’t get to win this. He doesn’t get to make every last fucking aspect of her life about him if he’s going to just toss her aside when he’s bored. V doesn’t do this hot and cold shit, and he’s no exception. </p><p>She opens the bathroom door, finding Takemura sitting on the couch, his jacket discarded as he tries to do <em> something </em> with the holo-panel. “Any luck?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed across from him. </p><p>“No,” he says, shaking his head, so fixated on it that he hasn’t even noticed her sit down. “I think I may have accidentally ordered pizza. If it arrives, you may--” he falls silent when he looks up, his eyes settling on the towel-clad woman before him. </p><p>V smiles. Christ, he’s looking at her like he’s never had a woman come onto him before. ...Actually, V’s starting to think that might be the case. Or, if it isn’t, that it’s been so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like, anyway. “Well?” </p><p>He’s silent for another moment, just long enough that V thinks she might have gone too far, or that she’s misread the situation. However, the second he stands up and begins his approach, V is at peace. He doesn’t take his eyes off her <em> once, </em> and for a goddamned second she gets a flashback to when he almost scanned her in Yorinobu’s penthouse and <em> fuck it, </em>it’s hot as all hell. </p><p>He stops in front of her, just eyeing her for a second, <em> just </em> long enough that it makes her shift a little. “Takemura, if this isn’t what you--” V’s cut off when he scoops her up from the bed and into his arms, lifting her to her feet and pulling her against him as he kisses her like -- shit, man, V doesn’t even know how to describe it. Christ, it’s like his life depends on it. One of his arms holds against the curve of her back, pressing her against him, his free hand cradling the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. It’s so much that V doesn’t know what to do with her arms and they just kinda hang there like she’s some clueless, virginal gonk and not the fuck-machine she came into this No-Tell room with the energy of. </p><p>The towel is gone -- V’s too foggy-brained to tell if he pulled it off her or if it just fell of its own volition. Next thing she knows, she’s back on the bed, sitting up a little on her elbows to look at Takemura, who stands over her at the end. Holy shit, the way he’s looking at her right now, not doing anything else -- just looking, taking her in, appreciating her in all her naked glory. “Finally,” he says in a way that would sound angry if she didn’t know what was really going on, “the fox reveals herself.” She expects him to touch her after this, to join her on the bed. To V’s frustration, though, he doesn’t, staying put, slowly and deliberately undoing his shirt cuffs. He focuses his eyes on his collars as he unbuttons them, taking his time, being careful, but his eyes flicker to her every now and then, checking in. That asshole. He’s doing this on purpose. He can see her squirm, he can see her face flush, he’s probably noticed the way that V chews on her lip when she gets worked up like this. </p><p>He moves on to the buttons that run down his shirt, undoing them one by one, pretending to pay V and the way she’s gripping the sheets beneath her fingers in frustration until he reaches the last of the buttons. “Patience does not come to you easily,” he says, not looking at her, shrugging the shirt off as her jaw tenses. She feels a relief knowing that their last encounter wasn’t going to be the last time she saw him shirtless -- it’s fucking great. He doesn’t follow up on his observation, undressing the rest of himself, taking time to fold each item of clothing and place it aside. It’s torture. V’s about ready to grab him herself by the time he finally touches her -- his hand setting itself on top of her shin.</p><p>They eye each other again for a moment, V wondering what he’s doing -- and then Takemura grabs her other leg and yanks her entire body towards the end of the bed until her ass is right on the edge and -- <em> oh fuck no wait, </em> V <em> definitely </em> knows what he’s about to--</p><p>Takemura doesn’t even give her warning, no working up to it, no preamble, just his face between her legs and his mouth getting to work like <em> she’s </em> the meal that he’s been searching for in Night City this entire time. “Christ-” she doesn’t even get the full sentence out, her back arching, Takemura wasting no time finding exactly where he needs to focus his efforts. V is a simple woman, and she’s blessed to have a pretty easy run of things in bed, but <em> this </em> is… his hands reach up from under her legs and loop over to hold her by the hips and she wonders where in the everloving <em> fuck </em> he learned this? This isn’t how your average hot-shot Solo eats pussy, oh no. This is how a Moxx you met at Lizzie’s eats pussy. This is top-shelf. This is finesse. Is this something you learn in Arasaka security? Fuck, maybe V made a mistake working in intel. </p><p>When V fucks, she usually works up to the cries of pleasure, but this time? She has no say in it. Takemura’s alternating between doing this <em> pressing </em> thing against her clit with his tongue and then sucki-- <em> fuuuck, </em> she throws her head back into the mattress and the sound that comes out of her is this weird, involuntary mix between a groan and a moan that seems to come straight out of her chest that feels so <em> raw </em> that she honestly feels a little embarrassed, which is very unusual because V fucks, and often. He seems into it, though, judging by the sound he makes, a little grunt of approval. She can feel her face flushing, her legs beginning to shake, and she knows that he’s about to set a new record. “P-please,” she wines, summoning every last inch of her resolve to get entire words out cohesively. “B-before I--”</p><p>His eyes lock on to her and he doesn’t need to say anything, rhythmically sucking, his gaze so hot on her that V can feel it even as she throws her head back. He <em> wants </em> her to come. Well, wish fucking granted because V grips his head and comes harder than she can ever remember coming in her fucking life. Usually, when it’s someone she likes, she tries to be a little more… you know, ‘composed’ during sex. She tries to be cool, to not push too far, treat it as a polite introduction. But that’s gone out the fucking window now because if her legs squeeze together any harder, she’s going to crush the cybernetics that line either side of his neck. V intends to say ‘fuck’ as she comes, but what she actually says is less of a word and more of an abstract emotional statement, a garble of uncompleted syllables and cries. </p><p>She’s barely even started coming down from… <em> coming </em> before Takemura climbs onto the bed with her, taking a moment to help her back up, <em> visibly </em> into what just happened. He positions himself over her, kissing her with a tenderness that she’s not really used to receiving during sex, and then takes her. She is absolutely soaked after his efforts, and she’s able to take all of him without any discomfort, the wetness feeling almost <em> electric </em> as she takes the cock that her body has been demanding all this time. He’s well sized, enough to fill all of her, but not enough to hurt her when things get more intense. She’s been so desperate for him, though, that he could have fingered her instead and she would have been absolutely content. </p><p>Even the way he <em> fucks </em> is something new. It’s gentle, but firm. Enough for her to know that he wants her so badly that he has to try and contain himself, but also gentle enough that she feels treasured, cared for, safe. Her hands rest on the back of his neck, and he cups her face as he fucks her, kissing her, whispering shit to her in Japanese that she could totally translate but is far too fuck-drunk to bother with. Their brows press together, she finds herself saying his name more than she curses, something about the way he says hers back making something flicker in a part of her brain she didn’t know could feel that way. </p><p>She’s already sensitive from before, so when she comes again, it’s not a surprise it’s so easy, nor is it obligated to be earth shattering and bed-shaking. It’s a pleasant wave, a reminder of what came before, a tasty after-dinner mint that’s followed a big dessert. Takemura follows soon after, the feel of V spasming around him as she cooed his name apparently all he could take. He chokes her name, grabbing her by the hair and desperately kissing her as he comes, his moans muffled by her mouth, Takemura eventually lowering his face onto her collarbone and panting into her skin as he relaxes against her, bracing his arms against the bed to stop himself from collapsing onto her. Polite even in orgasm. How very<em> him.  </em></p><p>What V expects to be the standard ten minutes of recovery in bed turns into an hour of rest, Takemura guiding V to rest her head on his chest as they talk. She keeps waiting for it to come -- his excuse to leave, something he can’t miss, an apology -- but it never does. Instead, they stay there. He talks more about Chiba 11, how the food was the one good thing there, even in hardship. His mother, even when they struggled the most, made the best Yakitori he’s ever tasted, even though sometimes she could only provide one per child. She talks about how her parents never cooked for her. It was always pre-made or takeout. Too busy to cook. Mama Welles, though? Mama Welles is the best cook in Night City, far as she cares. Best ropa vieja in Night City, even if the meat isn’t real. The pizza arrives, and they’re both so hungry from the sex and talking about food that they both brave it. Surprisingly, it’s not terrible, even if it’s clearly out of a box. Well, Takemura doesn’t think so, but it’s enough to satisfy their stomachs, anyway.</p><p>And then, after their talking and eating, V waits again for him to say goodbye, to take a shower, to begin making a move. But he doesn’t. Instead, Takemura cups her face and tells her that he never, ever, ever expected to find <em> her -- </em> not just in Night City, but anywhere. They fuck again, and this time, Takemura falls asleep after.</p><p>V quietly extends the booking time at the holo-panel before climbing back into bed next to Takemura, who drowsily wraps an arm around her and guides her back to her spot against his chest. She starts to drift off, the heartbeat she’d expected to hear somewhat drowned out by the hum of his cybernetics, dreading the headache she’ll have tomorrow from all the blockers. Both the literal headache and Johnny.</p><p>She tries not to think about him. Not now. She has Takemura and Johnny has Rogue. It’s fine. It’s how it’s meant to go, she guesses. A fair ending. </p><p>Once V’s drifted off, Johnny glitches onto the couch, a cigarette between his fingers, hunched over, elbows on his knees, not sure if he can even stomach looking at it. By the time the blockers wore off, Johnny dropped in to find V with that smug corporate fuck’s head between her legs, and she was too into that bullshit to even notice he was there. He hadn’t bothered after that. No point. Too far gone. Always knew she was a cheap fucking sellout at heart.</p><p>He gives in, glancing at the bed, V sound asleep on whatshisname’s chest. That all she need, huh? A real body? Something physical she can always touch whenever she wants? Someone who barely fucking knows her, just knows and likes his own <em> version </em> of who V is? He feels his arms tense. All Johnny wants to do right now is lash out. Kick something, yell at V, tell her what he really thinks, make her feel as shitty as he does right now, make her regret blocking him the fuck out like that.<br/><br/><span>But he doesn’t. Instead, Johnny takes a long breath, tossing his fake cigarette aside and watching it vanish into nothing. He runs a hand through his hair. This jealousy thing. It’s never been good for him. Never has. Just took V to make him see it.</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. [I Disagree]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Well?” V asks, standing in front of her mirror, hands all but gripping the edges of the counter beneath it. “How do you want it?” She eyes Johnny in the reflection. Things are tense, cold -- downright chilled, actually -- but civil, thankfully. He stares back, his expression expectant. “My hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fuckin’ care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>date,” she says flatly. “Might not be your own body, but I figured you might wanna look nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues to eye her silently, and what feels like a full minute passes before he finally speaks, ending the stand-off. “Down, I guess,” he says with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods, setting aside the hair tie she had around her wrist. “Opinions on the makeup?” She waits for him to throw a quip or an insult to let her know how little he cares, and honestly, she was only really asking out of spite, maybe to try and make herself look like she’s being a lot nicer than she wants to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny crosses his arms and turns his head, staring out of the open doorway and into the living area. “I like the way you do that pointy thing with your eyeliner,” he responds casually, like he’s ordering a drink. “Do that. No lipstick, though.” His internal monologue continues even after he shuts his mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lips are perfect the way they are. Don’t change them. Can’t stop thinking about ‘em.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wouldn’t dare, though, not even jokingly. “Don’t wanna get it everywhere.” Fuck. He can’t help himself, can he? V didn’t even do anything to piss him off that time. It’s like he has one nice feeling and immediately has to be an asshole to make up for it. Why does he do that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Johnny’s surprise -- and, a little upsettingly -- V doesn’t even flinch. She continues getting ready, opening up her eyeliner pen, doing it the way he requested even though he absolutely doesn’t deserve it. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says. “This makeup and hair shit.” He takes a second, taking a breath. “Don’t have to let me take over--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I’d do this,” she says over the top of him. She sounds calm, but Johnny doesn’t need to be in her head to feel the bitterness emanating from her. “So I’m going to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her holo beeps. A new message. She smiles for what Johnny can tally up as the first time since she woke up today. It’s Takemura -- he saw a cat and took a photo for her. Johnny does his best to stop himself from scrunching his face up. They’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>couple-y.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s gross, gets under his skin and crawls. “Things going well for you and the corpo, then?” He asks, trying to look literally anywhere but at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that it’s any of your business,” V snaps back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard for it not to be, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Look, can I just have something for me, okay?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales sharply, his shoulders tensing, the air hissing through his teeth. “We really gonna keep doing this?” He asks. “Bitching eachother out?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t really given me an option,” she replies, finishing her liner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re better than this--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we?” She snaps, closing the lid of the eyeliner pen and slamming it onto the counter. “Or are we just </span>
  <em>
    <span>convenient,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny?” She asks. “That’s what it’s all about for you, right? Convenience? Whoever’s there?” He opens his mouth to argue, but she raises her hand, palm up, gesturing for him to stop. “Don’t. I’m not doing this tonight, okay?” V exhales and steps back from the mirror, leaving the bathroom. “Let’s just get you to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>date </span>
  </em>
  <span>and get this over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s relative silence from then on out, but not for lack of things to talk about. It’s the opposite, actually. Johnny has stuff to talk to her about. He has </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much he wants to talk to her about. He wants to apologise. He wants to tell her that all he gives a fuck about, other than making sure she gets out of this alive, is making sure she’s happy. He wants to tell her that the last fucking thing he wants is for her to end up anything like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’d be an admission of the truth, huh? It’d fuck shit up for her more. She’d be back to square one. As much as he hates Takemura, he makes her happy (for some reason,) and while he’s not Johnny’s pick, he’ll keep her safe when this is over. More than Johnny could do. Johnny can hardly fucking take care of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get the projector working, barely exchanging a word, only discussing the immediate mechanical problems in front of them. Johnny tries to focus on how shitty V is, tries to take it and turn it into something that’s wrong with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> rather than himself, his usual way of approaching this shit -- but it’s not working. Not this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she takes the pills, it’s in silence, but there’s a weird look on her face. It looks like hurt. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The ‘date’ is… cold. Stiff. It shouldn’t be, or at least he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> it wouldn’t be. Johnny… well, okay, he doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he expected, but he thought there’d be more talking than this, at least. Rogue seems to resent the idea a little, there’s a cynicism to everything he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> get out of her, but she still showed up. Rogue doesn’t show up to shit if she doesn’t want to. Probably waiting for him to harden the fuck up and address the elephant in the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are we gonna talk?” He asks. “Like, really talk. Sort our shit out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends how much you want V to know,” she replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shakes V’s head, reaching up and tapping the side of the skull they’re sharing. “Don’t worry about V. Totally blacks out when I take over,” he explains. “Relic doesn’t play fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue kicks her feet up, clearly not actually that interested in the movie itself. “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> V, anyway?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fine?” She smiles to herself. “You sure about that? She’s going through a hell of a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts a little, crossing her arms, staring ahead at the movie like he gives two shits about what’s happening. “She’ll be alright. She’s got an output now,” he explains. “Corpo. Takes good care of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue blinks, her eyebrows shooting up. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>corpo, </span>
  </em>
  <span>huh?” She laughs to herself. “Bet that really got up your ass, hey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had to watch the whole thing, Rogue,” he explains, poison in his voice, like the memory itself has slapped him in the face. “Made my skin crawl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs, leaning back into her seat. “You never could handle it when your inputs eventually moved on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a second to really clue in on what she’s said, not expecting anything but commiseration from Rogue. “She’s not my--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bull</span>
  <em>
    <span>shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” her response is firm, quick, like a stab to the arm or something. “Every time we talk about you she gets that same fucking look on her face that all the girls you fucked around with did.” She laughs to herself again, but this time it’s bitter, short. “60 years and you’re still chasing the same type, too. Some shit never changes.” Rogue shakes her head. “Don’t know what I expected. 60 </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>years.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rogue…” He’s not sure how to follow up, but he knows Rogue is far from done with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When, huh?” She asks, turning to face him, somehow sounding angry and exhausted at the same time. He’s heard that tone from her before -- it didn’t go well. “Before or after you told her you were dragging her out here to try and fix 50 years of damage with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates, considering not telling her at all, but if he refuses, Rogue’s just gonna walk away. And if he lies? Rogue will just find out the truth from V herself, and then he’s in even worse with both of them. Never was good at lying to Rogue, anyway. She’s too smart, catches that shit right out. Johnny never had a hope of treating her the way he treated women back then and getting away with it. “Before,” he finally admits, exhaling.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “How many times?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tenses her jaw, resting her elbows on her knees. “Twice. After things went to shit at that ‘Saka parade,” he pauses. Next one’s gonna sting. “And after we found Grayson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue sits in silence for a moment, not reacting at all, until she eventually throws her hands up, exhaling sharply. “How does that even work?” She asks under her breath. “I can’t fucking believe you. Well -- no -- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but this is…” she trails off, collecting her thoughts. “So you strike out with me and decide to screw your 20 year old sidekick, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s 27,” he corrects, his voice firm, clearly trying to hold something back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she scoffs. “That’s way better.” Rogue begins to climb out of the carseat, shaking her head. “Classic. Absolutely classic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rogue,” he says, scrambling to get up. “It wasn’t anything! This whole sharing bodies things just made us both--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogue turns around in what’s almost a spin, the look on her face something that he assumes would be the last thing you’d ever see if you were one of her Solos. “Don’t you get it? It’s not about you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>her,” she explains. “You’re you. You’ll fuck anything that’ll let you if it makes you feel better about yourself. No,” Rogue shakes her head. “It’s about you fucking her and then making her bring you here. For this. With me.” She drops her arms, her hands slapping against her jeans as they flop. “Do you even fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> her talk about you?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Johnny says with a nod. “Says the same shit you’re saying now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She asks. “V won’t even take those blocker things -- and she has every right to, given how you fuckin’ behave -- because she says it’s not ‘fair.’” Rogue scoffs. “You had me for a second there, you know,” she says, shaking her head again. “There was a hot minute there where I thought she might’ve knocked some sense into you, somehow. 60 fucking years and nothing’s changed. Me, Kerry, Alt... and now you’re gonna fuckin’ add this one to your bodycount.” He watches her turn around, waving her hand to him dismissively, walking away. “And you thought you could show up and act like everything’s normal after all the suffering you’ve caused.” Her voice is dripping with disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny watches her walk away, not sure what to say. The fuck do you say to that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is</span>
  </em>
  <span> there anything to say to that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. There isn’t, because she’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at V’s hands, flexing them open and closed. Fuck did he come here for? What the fuck did he expect? Did he think Rogue was just gonna forget everything he did and act like he’d never hurt her? Did he think he was gonna get to dive into bed with her in some No-Tell and just magically forget about Alt? Forget about V? Did he think Rogue was somehow gonna forgive him and carry the weight of his bullshit? That Rogue was somehow gonna make him stop thinking about V every goddamn day?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth of it, once the dust settles, is worse. He came here to hurt V. That was it all along, wasn’t it? Hurt V, make her angry at him, make ending things her responsibility so </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> gets to be the bad guy and </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> gets an excuse to get angry at her. Playing her to the same tune he was playing 60 years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck am I supposed to do with you?” Johnny asks aloud, seemingly to V’s body, eyes still on her hands. He keeps thinking back to what happened when he lost Alt, how fucked up he got, how he was so determined to get revenge or whatever the fuck it was he thought he needed at the time that he left a trail of destruction behind him. At least he was already an asshole. V? Different. Likes helping people, puts herself out for others. Smart. Kind. Good. And now she’s fucked up over </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all fucking people and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his fault.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Even after the way he’s treated her recently, she still brought him out here, let her take over, helped him. She’s so good it makes him frustrated sometimes, and his first reaction is always to </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hate that about her. Try as he may, though, he just can’t. He can’t hate that about her. In fact, it’s what he fucking treasures about her and the thought of ruining that just… he can’t let her become him. Maybe she’s so mad at him now that she won’t feel like that if shit goes sideways. Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it comes down to it, he’s not walking out of this. She is. He had a good run--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny stops on that thought. He did have a good run. Maybe that’s the difference. Maybe if V can see he’s at peace with dropping off, she’ll… maybe he just needs her to know it’s his choice, even if that means unpacking some shit he doesn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time V drifts back to the forefront of consciousness, it’s past midnight. She’s still at the drive-in, watching the movie even though it’s played through twice now. She’d expected to come-to exhausted, half naked, maybe at Rogues, maybe at her own place -- if the two had even made it that far. But she feels fine, and Rogue’s nowhere in sight. The only other figure she can see is Johnny, the engram sitting beside her, boots kicked up on the dash of the busted up car corpse they’re sitting in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” She asks, more curious than anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Bout as well as you’d expect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks down at her hands. Clean. Part of her wants to do the sniff-test, but it seems rude, even in front of Johnny, of all people. “Did you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Like I said -- it went about as well you’d expect.” There’s a long pause, V’s silence a hint that he needs to explain. “She’s pissed at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fair,” he explains. “Deserve it.” He shifts a little. “Wanna ask you another favor,” he says. “I know I’ve been a real... “ Johnny pauses, exhaling. “We gotta start being realistic about where this is going -- what happens with Mikoshi,” he explains. “Got some loose ends to tie up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny,” she begins, sounding exhausted, “it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V,” he interrupts. “Time to be honest with ourselves.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>But not too honest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We don’t know if there’s a way out of this for both of us. We don’t know if there’s a safe way to untangle our heads, we don’t know if we can keep my engram on something, we don’t know if there’s some kinda clone body or whatever… we don’t even know if we’re gonna make it in there.” Her eyes are locked onto him, and he knows she wants to argue with him, but there’s something stopping her from doing so. “Best case scenario, I walk out of there in a new body, knowing I’ve fixed my life up. Worst case scenario?” He shrugs. “I go out knowing I’ve taken care of everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare each other down for a moment before V, apparently, relents, tossing herself back against the seat and crossing her arms in a mini-tantrum. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s the bleed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Fine,” she snaps. “What do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta find Kerry,” he says. “Read some stuff in some screamsheets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screamsheets?” V half-laughs, an eyebrow raised. “When the fuck did you have time to read </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamsheets?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“During my boys’ night out,” John explains with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Didn’t like what I saw. Apparently he tried to off himself.” There’s an expression on V’s face when she hears this, one that looks like it should come with a shrug. “What?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” she sits back upright, swaying a little in her seat, looking for the words. “Not to be insensitive, but it’s Kerry Eurodyne,” she says, speaking carefully. “Don’t gotta read screamsheets to know the dude’s fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to press her on this, ask her to elaborate, but he doesn’t. It’s pointless. Just confirms what he’s read, really. “All the more reason to pay him a visit, then.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry, it's a shorter chapter, and it's kind of a connective one, but you all gave me so much last chapter that I don't want to keep you waiting too long and I wanted to take a moment to THANK YOU! Not only have all your comments kept me motivated and cheered me up (my city just went into hard lockdown and I'm not allowed to leave like, my immediate area for anything but food and medical care,) but your discussions have been really thought provoking and have actually kind of helped me really think through where I want this story to go and what I want it to explore and touch on. Thank you all so much for giving me food for thought. </p><p>Boy oh fuckin' boy are Kerry and V gonna have a lot to talk about, though. :) I'm sure this will go fine for Johnny. 100%.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Wait and Bleed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>god i love drama</p><p>(i promise there's more sex coming.)</p><p>also, semi-related, but i found out about this thing some people do where they write letter from fictional characters and send them to you and i mean hypothetically do you uh, you think there might be a market for that with uh... you know... some of these characters? for legal purposes, i am just curious.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Johnny’s fucked </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> up by introducing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that there was any way around it -- either than just avoiding Kerry entirely -- but they’re getting along </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> well. When he gave V control back and he saw the </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Kerrie’s face when she said ‘hi,’ he felt his stomach drop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not because he thinks they’re gonna fuck or anything. Fuck no. Kerry’s attracted to trash and people so toxic that… well, there’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason </span>
  </em>
  <span>Johnnie and Kerry fucked around a little bit back in the day. V’s not his type, though. Not even close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he’s fucked up because Kerry is two drinks away from telling V about </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty thing Johnny’s ever done. They were meant to delta </span>
  <em>
    <span>two hours</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago but all they’ve done is talk shit about Johnny (although they haven’t gotten to the heavy shit yet) and play pool. He’s never seen two people just </span>
  <em>
    <span>click </span>
  </em>
  <span>like this -- oh. It’s the bleed, isn’t it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s crazy, you know,” Kerry laughs, watching V take a shot. She misses. She’s not very good at pool -- apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hasn’t bled over yet. “You’re like, the polar opposite of him, but still…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel the same?” She offers, standing upright. “Probably the bleed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry smirks. “Yeah, probably.” He sets down his glass of tequila -- a drink that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>suspiciously</span>
  </em>
  <span> growing on V, who used to hate the shit -- and takes his own shot. “Poetic fuckin’ irony that he wound up in the body of a hot chick after spending his whole life treating them like garbage,” he laughs, standing back up and reaching for the glass again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just</span>
  </em>
  <span> chicks?” V asks with a grin.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kerry shrugs. “Well, anything that’d let him jack in. But you know.” He pauses, waving the glass in his hand around towards her in a gesture. “He hasn’t tried to… you know…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question makes Johnny, who’s pretending to not listen while he peruses Kerry’s record collection, flinch. Doesn’t seem to get to V, though, not even a little. “Fuck no,” she lies. “How would that even work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does any of this fuckin’ work?” Kerry responds. “But… like, has he </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” another lie. “Not with me. Think it’d be weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry laughs, nodding, taking a sip. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe he has changed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’d say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Kerry asks. “You don’t know what he used to be like, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shrugs at this. “I mean, I kinda do. Saw some of his memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry smirks at this. “You have, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. “Seen you before.” She pauses, grinning to herself. “I mean, your hair was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>bigger.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile on Kerry’s face falls clear off it, and there’s a sudden change to his stance. Discomfort. “...what’d you mean you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> me before?” He asks. “What’d you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you yelling at Johnny,” she explains, catching him visibly relax again. “Guessing that was the usual for you two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fuckin’ bet,” he laughs. “Think I yelled at him more than I talked to him, y’know?” He gestures to the pool table, waiting for V to take her turn. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good handle on him, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, the cue ball hits the 3rd ball with a loud clunk, sinking it, V unable to contain the little smile on her face as she plans her next move. “What makes you say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Saka Tower’s still standing, for one,” Kerry explains, watching her sink the 4th ball this time. “I mean, you seem smart and all, but Johnny can be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Manipulative?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry laughs, and V misses her next shot. “Was gonna say ‘persuasive,’ but if we’re being honest, then, yeah.” He exhales, nodding to himself. “Had a way of wrapping you around his finger, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” There’s a pause. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have a handle on him?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V kind of flinches at this question, keenly aware of the fact that Johnny’s moved his attention from the record collection and to their conversation. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> she doesn’t have a handle on Johnny in the slightest, and it doesn’t take a lot of self reflection to admit that -- but she’s not about to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Saying it out loud is both admitting defeat and inviting more of Johnny’s shit, and despite her current feelings, she wants things between Johnny and Kerry to go smoothly, more for Kerry’s sake than Johnny’s now that she’s gotten to know him a little. “Much as I can have a handle on someone like him,” she lies, ignoring the offended laugh that comes out of Johnny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry smiles, leaning down to take his own shot at the cue ball. “You’ve got nads, I’ll give you that,” he says, sinking the next ball into the corner pocket. “I didn’t even have him in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>head</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he…” Kerry stops himself, shaking his head. “He’s a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V agrees, glancing to Johnny. “He is.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You gonna tell me what that was about?” He asks once they’re back in her apartment. “Lying to Kerry, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs, walking past him like he’s a complete non-issue, kicking her shoes off by her closet. “Fucking you isn’t as much of a brag as you think it is, Johnny. Not everyone needs to know about my sex life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not talkin’ about that,” Johnny replies, crossing his arms. “I mean telling Kerry we’re fine and that you’ve--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got a handle on you?” V asks. “Because I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s part of Johnny that wants to take this as a challenge and immediately start acting up to prove her wrong, but he does his best to ignore it. “I’m in your head. Sometimes I don’t pick up on it when you lie, but that one was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whopper,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t even believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes, shrugging her jacket off and hanging it up. “So, what? You want me to tell your old Choom that you’re ruining my life?” She laughs. “What good would that do? It’ll just upset him. Thought we’re trying to cheer him up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s jaw tenses.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ruining her life?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fair, but it stings a little. “You two are getting along because you’ve got me in common,” he explains. “Left Kerry real fucked up. Might be good for both of you to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bold of you to assume you’re going to leave me as fucked up as you’ve left him,” she snaps. Johnny didn’t intend this to get a reaction out of her, but it has. It’s cut right into her, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to argue, wants to react like he’s used to reacting to this shit, but he takes a breath and closes his eyes. If the bleed gets to her, surely he gets a little, too -- he tries to hone in on V’s infinite-bordering-on-malicious patience. “I know you’re shitty with me, but just fuckin’ listen to me for a second, okay?” Oops. That comes out a little harsher than he’d hoped. “Hate me as much as you like, but merging our personalities like this and then ripping it apart again can’t be good, has to fuck you up.” He takes another breath. She’s gonna flip out in a second. “Wanna make sure you’ve got someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets</span>
  </em>
  <span> it when I’m gone. Your output’s good to you, I’ll give him that, but Kerry’s gonna understand shit that--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck do you mean ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>when you’re gone?’”</span>
  </em>
  <span> V cuts in, ignoring the rest of what he has to say. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, we’ve gotta stop dancing around it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she snaps, her voice bordering on a shout, the emotions he’s picking up from her near fucking radioactive. Anger, frustration, hurt, fear, it’s all there, loud as fuck. “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting out of this, Johnny, we’ve been through this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck is your obsession with this, huh?” She shouts, turning to fully face him.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This some kind of fuckin’... I ‘dunno, martyr thing?” She asks. She’s raging now. He’s not gonna get a word in. “Like you think that sacrificing yourself is gonna make everything you did better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that fuckin’ simple-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or do you just not want to deal with it? Is this the easy way out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I give a shit about you!” He finally shouts back. The silence that follows is agonising. He’d hoped that V would deny it, argue with him, scoff and tell him to fuck himself -- but she doesn’t. She just stares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally does speak, though, her voice is quieter. It’s quivering. She’s holding herself back. “You don’t get to say that,” it’s close to a growl, anger boiling under each word. “You don’t get to treat me like shit and then pretend--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fucking pretending,” he cuts in, beginning to pace. “Fuck, V, look at me. Look at what my life was like. Look at the shitfest I left behind for everyone. You don’t want that, V, you don’t want any of that.” He pauses, holding himself still and crossing his arms, not daring to look at her. “I don’t want that for you. You’ve got a good life, people who care about you -- actually, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> give a shit about you. You’ve got a future. I’ve done a lot of… I’ve been a real fuckin’...” he trails off for a second, an exhale coming out in a puff of air. He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. “Don’t gotta tell you the shit I’ve done or how I’ve hurt people. You’ve seen it. Don’t wanna be that person anymore, V, so it’s stopping with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long silence follows. V doesn’t say anything -- although her eyes look a little misty. Could mean anything, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s shoulders drop. “You’ve got every right to be shitty with me. I’ve treated you like shit, and I still don’t like your output but he’s gonna look after you, so I’m just gonna have to eat shit on that one -- but I’m sorry. Now,” he gestures to her, “don’t expect you to accept that. Don’t need you to. But I’m trying to do the right thing for once so I can look back before I delta once and for all and see at least one thing I didn’t ruin, so I’m gonna make sure you’re looked after when all this is over. ...Whatever ‘over’ means, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, like all the other times, she’s not totally sure how it happens. Neither of them are. It’s like two magnets coming together, really, the way they kiss. What V can say with certainty though was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>started it this time. Her hands cup his face, his sit on her waist as they both walk backwards until her back flattens against the wall. Their emotions are in an undeniable feedback loop again, so tangled together and blurry that it’s close impossible to decipher anything but fleeting tastes of a singular feeling, each one blurring into the next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds her against him and all V can think about is how right it feels, how what they have is fucked up and </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible</span>
  </em>
  <span> but can’t be avoided, both of them locked together in a way that no one else can really experience or relate to, how she feels like she’s meant to be here and with him, and how this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny feels it, like he can hear it, but only in his chest instead of his head, and he relents and admits to himself that he loves her so fucking much and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny stops. “V,” he says quietly, pulling his hands away, bringing them to lean against the wall on either side of her. He rests his forehead against hers, his hair falling in her face a little. “We gotta stop this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She asks, a little breathless, looking up at him and  -- fucking hell the look in her eyes is </span>
  <em>
    <span>killing</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. “It’s okay, I want--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about that, V,” he says quietly, trying to be gentle. “I can’t keep dragging you down with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid,” she laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It dawns on her what he means and the expression on her face sinks. “Please don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t what?” He asks. He smiles a little, trying to maybe soften the blow a little. “It’s not about you V, you’re perfect. Too perfect for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feedback loop is louder and louder in their heads, and while Johnny seems to have a good handle on it, V does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What comes next isn’t spoken, but thrown into Johnny’s head, spat out by the feedback loop. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t leave me. Not you, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny takes a deep breath, trying to suck down the sting of something he’s not even sure V knows he’s heard, something he’s sure she didn’t intend to share. He leans forward, kissing her forehead. “Not going anywhere,” he assures her. “Just doing the right thing.” He steps back from her. “Call your output, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches away, and while V manages to stop herself from sobbing, she can’t stop herself from trembling, reeling from a thought of his she caught in the feedback loop.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He loves me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Rite of Passage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Two chapters in one day, Cantique?!" I hear you say. Yes. Yes, I was on a roll and we're at the tail end of this story now (at least kind of. I can't decide if I'm going to do a second story in the series or if I'm gonna just add more chapters. I'll sleep on it. The ending does kind of require a second part but you know.) </p><p>Heads up that this chapter is kind of brutal. If something like the brutal reality of the Arasaka nuke is something that will upset you, you might want to skip this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She doesn’t call Takemura right away. She waits a day. Johnny’s around, but the conversation is light, mostly him giving her ideas when texting Kerry. There’s things they don’t always see eye to eye on, but playfully giving Kerry shit isn’t one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them bring up what happened the day before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Takemura shows up, Johnny is surprisingly well behaved, sticking to lounging around and observing, rolling his eyes every now and then as Takemura talks while they sit on the couch together and share some tea Misty gave V to help her ‘clear her chakras.’ “V?” He asks after some basic chatter, mostly about food. He brought her chocolates today, fancy shit, something he’s clearly ordered from some kind of Arasaka commissary judging by the Japanese branding.  “I was talking to Wakako-San--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you talking to Wakako?” She laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I am allowed to have my secrets.” Takemura smiles at her, but relents after taking in the unimpressed look on V’s face. “I still want to take you somewhere with good Takoyaki,” he explains. “Wakako-San provided me with assistance, but she referred to you with a term I have not heard. What is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>input?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>V freezes up, Johnny letting out a noise that's half a laugh and half a cough. “She said that?” V asks. Takemura nods and V shakes her head, muttering something about Wakako under her breath. They’ll have words later. “It’s uh… well… it’s kind of like…” She shifts a bit, suddenly extremely aware of the way her and Takemura’s legs are touching, and extremely aware of how far away Johnny seems to be. “You know how uh… amplifiers and stuff work? You have an AUX cord, and that’s the output, and you gotta…” she pauses. Johnny is snickering. “You gotta jack it into the output? Well… it’s like… its slang for your uh... “ she’s dreading using the term. “Your partner, if they’re uh… on the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>receiving</span>
  </em>
  <span> end…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” his response is as matter of fact as she’d expect, but it doesn’t stop her face feeling any hotter. “It is used to refer to sexual partners?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nods. “Or, well, sort of. More than that. More of a uh… girlfriend kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” He nods, thinking it over. There’s a long pause. She watches Takemura lean over, resting his elbows on his knees. “I have been meaning to ask you,” he admits. “I think often about the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V instinctively glances to Johnny -- something Johnny immediately picks up on, his shoulders dropping as he exhales, letting out a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ah, shit,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> under his breath. V’s panicking. Usually, at least in her experience, these conversations feel natural, they just kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>happen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But this… this feels…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takemura,” she says slowly, staring at her hands. “I… I like this, I do, but I…” she clears her throat. Time to face the music. “I don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> if I have a future I can plan for. We still don’t know if we can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hanako-Sama will help you,” he says quickly, trying to assure you. “This I am certain of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She will. V, I promise you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if her solution isn’t the right one?” She asks, trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. Johnny’s sitting upright on her bed now, watching carefully. “What if it… what if it’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Takemura asks. “Hanako-Sama will rid you of the engram and Arasaka will see to your medical needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny pipes up, clearly understanding what V’s getting at. “V, don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if…” she looks between Takemura and Johnny. “What if I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get rid of the engram?”</span>
</p><p><span>The only thing stopping the room from being in a state</span> <span> of ice-cold silence is Johnny cursing out loud at what V just said. “What do you mean?” Takemura asks, visibly confused.</span></p><p>
  <span>“I…” she takes a deep breath, able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takemura process what she just said, realising he’s understanding it without needing the explanation she asked for. “It doesn’t feel right,” she explains. “I can’t just let him die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s already dead,” Takemura argues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>body</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. He was only locked up in Soulkiller because--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what he did,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takemura cuts in, something in his voice that V hasn’t heard in a while -- anger. It makes her stomach drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though, V’s not dropping this, despite a very Johnny-sounding voice in her head urging her to. “Which he only </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> because Arasaka kidnapped Alt Cunningham!” Her voice rises to match the escalating tone. Too late to drop it now, honestly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura straightens up, his posture taking on a foreign quality, not that of the man she cares for but that of an Arasaka bodyguard. “Are you suggesting that Arasaka-Sama is responsible for--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says, taking her turn to cut in, “I’m suggesting that not everything Arasaka does exists in vacuum. There are consequences. You can’t just play with people’s lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A noise comes from his throat, low and rumbling, not a growl, more of a frustrated grumble. He stands up, seizing V’s arm in his hand and pulling her to her feet. “Come. Now,” he orders, pulling her along as he heads for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck?!” V blurts, stumbling along, past Johnny, who’s now standing and very, very clearly on alert. If Johnny could hit Takemura, V would be worried for his safety right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must show you something,” he says to her, pulling her out of the front door and leading her out of her apartment complex. “Before you say something you cannot take back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls a car -- clearly a company car, by the looks of it, -- and lets her get into the passenger’s seat before taking the driver’s seat for himself. Johnny glitches into the back seat, leaning forward, his torso intruding into the front of the car from between the seats. “Don’t like this, V,” he warns her, his eyes studying the road ahead as Takemura drives. “Don’t like the way he’s handling you, ‘Saka or not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura must catch her glancing into the rear view mirror. “Is he here?” He asks quickly as they turn a corner. They’re headed towards The Glen. “The engram?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s kind of… always here,” she admits, feeling like she’s coming clean about Johnny knowing every detail of her and Takemura’s relationship, aware of the implications, that he might take it as an invasion of privacy. Instead, though, Takemura looks straight ahead, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I want him to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuckin’ like that, V!” Johnny’s voice shouts, as though Takemura could hear him, as if V isn’t on edge enough. “Let me take over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny, not now, ” she says under her breath, hoping that it’ll create an ‘unknown’ for Takemura and give her an edge, but he seems unphased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they pull up beside Arasaka tower, Johnny clearly assuming the worst as Takemura opens the driver’s door. “I fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d sell us out!” He snaps. “We gotta delta!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks around, raising an eyebrow, raising her hand and placing it carefully on Johnny’s shoulder. “No…” she says, almost like she’s thinking aloud. “This is the memorial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura opens the passenger’s side door and grabs V again, this time by the hand, and pulls her along and into the building. They walk straight past the Memorial’s museum and past the office simulations. “You wish to talk about consequences?” He asks her, leading her past the preserved ruins of ground zero. “You wish to talk about playing with lives?” They turn a corner, passing the exit into the outdoor memorial. “Then talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fresh air collides with her skin as they arrive at the actual memorial, Takemura coming to a stop before what look almost like endless towers of memorial niches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s heart plummets. She can see Johnny next to her out of the corner of her eye, and realises that wasn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He felt that, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over twelve thousand people,” Takemura says, a noticeable drop in the volume of his voice. There’s less anger to it. Instead, it’s peppered with sadness. “People who were just normal workers, like you. People who had never worked for Arasaka for as much as a moment of their lives.” V’s eyes fixate on a woman standing in front of a niche. The woman glides her fingertips along the raised lettering of the name plate, her lips moving as she speaks quietly to the person it’s dedicated to. “Out of twenty thousand people, the number of them that were responsible for what happened to Alt Cunningham can be counted on one hand.” He pauses. “That is if they were even in Night City at the time.” V spots a small teddy-bear tied to a niche. She feels sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny is silent. The feedback loop has kicked back up, but this time it’s… something else. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it usually is. It’s loaded with regret, grief… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain.</span>
  </em>
  <span> V can feel her jaw trembling. Johnny reaches out slowly, slipping his hand into her free one. It’s not to make her feel better, it’s to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not claim to know the </span>
  <em>
    <span>engram</span>
  </em>
  <span> as well as you may,” Takemura continues, making a point of not daring to utter Johnny’s name. “But I know you, Valerie.” She swears her heart stops beating when she hears him say her name. Johnny squeezes her hand. “You are many things, but you are not this. Do not let him think you are. There is a good in you that is the only thing I have been able to trust in this entire city. Don’t let this murderer corrupt you. I beg you not to become another product of this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V… can’t respond. The only thing she can do is try to keep breathing while tears roll down her face involuntarily. How the fuck do you respond to this? It’s like every time she thinks she can take a full breath, she notices another person grieving and… feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>responsible.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She glances at Johnny. He’s just staring ahead, a little bit of a frown visible beneath his sunglasses, but his grip on her hand stays. It clicks with her: he’s feeling this, but it’s coming out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bleed’s worse than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura’s hand squeezes hers now, the bodyguard finally able to look at her. His expression has softened, and now he just seems sad. “I apologise if I have frightened you,” he says, his voice even more gentle than before, “but I notice the changes. I have said nothing out of fear of offending… but…” he pauses and takes a breath. “They have frightened </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura releases V’s hand, walking away, leaving her to process the reality she’s made the mistake of ignoring. Her solitude only lasts five or so minutes, however. The tightness in her stomach wins over, leaving her little option to sprint to the Memorial bathrooms and throw her head over one of the toilet bowls, throwing up. There’s blood in her vomit, and there’s blood coming from her nose as she gags into the toilet in the privacy of the stall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny glitches behind her and holds her hair back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Black Dog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok, i PROMISE the next one is going to be a little.... happier. I promise. I'm gonna give you guys SOMETHING.</p><p>as usual, thank you so much for all the comments. I'm sorry for hitting you with three painful chapters in a row in such short time but also I'm not sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’s throwing up blood. Again. Her nose is bleeding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s getting worse by what seems to be the hour now, but V’s pretending everything is fine. She swipes away a message from Takemura. Fifteen missed calls. She flushes the toilet and immediately shot-guns an entire beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny doesn’t like this at all. This isn’t like V. Even River got a better reception than this before he pretty much gave up. And V drinks, but not the way she’s been drinking tonight. She’s drinking to not feel… something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is more Johnny than V, and it’s a really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuckin’ bad sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure about this?” He asks her as she wipes her mouth and stumbles to the bar’s bathroom sink, tossing the bottle of beer into the trash can beneath the counter. “You seem pretty fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nahh, issfine,” she’s slurring -- usually he’d chalk that up to how much she’s drank over the last few hours, but he’s starting to notice the slurring even when she’s sober. The relic’s clearly kicked whatever it’s doing to her brain up a notch over the last 48 hours. He wonders if the shock of the whole Memorial thing is what get it really going. She’s getting migraines now, too. Drinking probably doesn’t help in the long run… however long that ‘run’ has left to it. “I said I’d do it, now lessgo play this gig!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “V, you’ve still got blood--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls her eyes and groans, running her hand under the faucet and wiping the blood away. “There? Issfine, see?” She smiles at his reflection in the mirror, taking the pills from her pocket. “Dunno </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re so worried, can’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘till we see Hanako t’morrow night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s right. Hanako called and organised a meeting at Embers tomorrow night. Until then there’s literally nothing they </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do, short of skipping this whole thing and finding Mikoshi themselves. Johnny would have considered it a couple of weeks ago. Now? ...No way he’s willing to put V in that kind of danger, even if he takes over for it. She dry-swallows a pill, leaning against the counter and winking into the mirror. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The gig goes well. Better than well. Being back with the band, playing a gig -- a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> gig? Best Johnny’s felt since… fuck, since he lost Alt, actually. Sound was a bit fucked, and it was a little hard to play with the way V keeps her nails, but it… well, he clinks his beer bottle against Kerry’s and it’s hard to not feel like everything’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘normal’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>as it can be, given the situation. “Fuckin preem,” he laughs. "Been wanting to scratch that itch since I woke up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Kerry says, gesturing to V’s hands. “Ya’ girl’s got the hands for it. Should teach her to play. Bet she’d be a real one on tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny smiles at the implication, putting aside his feelings about having another thing to add to the growing list of things he wishes he’d done with her while he had the time. “Been meanin’ to talk to you about that, actually,” he says, putting the beer down. “V, I mean. Need you to do me a favour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry raises an eyebrow, shrugging. “Whadda’ ya need?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need you to look after her,” Johnny says plainly, ignoring the confusion on Kerry’s face. “After this shit’s all over she’s gonna need someone to talk to, someone who gets what she’s been through. And, well, you didn’t exactly have me in your head, but you put up with my shit more than just about anyone else. Sides,” he says, “you two get along like old chooms. It’ll be good for you. Think you could use a friend who’s not in the biz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sure,” Kerry says, nodding, although clearly confused. “I like V, she’s cool, I can do that… but… something happening I should know about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Johnny lies, shaking his head. “Once we get separated and I get a body of my own I’m probably gonna delta for a little while, that’s all. Go on a bender, probably. V’s been generous with letting me take over but I miss getting my own dick sucked, you know? Anyway, doubt she’s gonna wanna talk to me after getting stuck with me for so long. Probably gonna want her space.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny reaches into V’s jacket pocket, taking the pill bottle out and tipping one into her hand, aware Kerry’s watching. “...Something happen between you two?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shrugs it off, closing the bottle and shoving it back into her pocket. “It matter?” he asks. “Just take care of her, alright? Not a big ask. She’s capable.” He throws the pill back. “...Mostly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry says something, but by then, V’s hearing has well and truly gone, replaced with that ‘full of cotton’ feeling that comes with the momentary blindness whenever they switch back and forth. V’s body lurches forward, and when she comes to, she braces herself against the bar. “Fuck,” she groans, blinking heavily, scrunching her face up like she’s been woken up from a nap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V?” Kerry asks. “Johnny’s gone, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly shakes her head, the additional beers that Johnny had her drink hitting her. “He’sstill here,” she slurs, waving her hand dismissively. “Can still hearya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry frowns, straightening up a little in his seat. “You alright, V?” he asks. “You’re bleedin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” V lifts her fingertips to the spot under her nose, finding blood when she pulls them away. Another nose bleed. Sure enough, her software starts to beep. Relic’s doing its thing again, and her vision’s getting blurry. “Ah </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny watches V black out, falling off the bar-stool and hitting her head against the bar on the way down -- although it’s less the Relic this time and more the drinking. She’s not seasoned like him, can hardly hold her liquor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches Kerry get to his feet and call for Denny to help. Time to see if Kerry’s true to his word.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>There’s a sound next to her, like glass touching something, and it wakes her up. She jolts awake, honestly, alarmed by the foreign bed -- these sheets are… satin? It’s colder in here than her place is. And whatever she’s wearing right now is satin, too. It’s not what she wore here. She opens her eyes, the light hurting, a faint “what the fuck” rolling out of her under her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry V,” a worn voice says, her vision focusing on Kerry, who’s standing beside her bed. “Didn’t mean to wake ya’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” she squeezes her eyes shut again, throwing her hand to the side of her head, like it’ll do anything. “The fuck is… where…” she grunts a little, taking a second to sit herself up -- easier said than done when the shorts you’re in and the sheets you’re on are both satin. “Fuck is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno,” Kerry admits, “but whatever it was laid you out. Brought you back here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tugs on the collar of the satin pyjama shirt, frowning at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Denny helped,” Kerry quickly explains. “Bled all over yourself on the way here -- whatever’s happening makes your nose bleed like a faucet. Thought you were gonna flatline on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes her head. “Nah, just uh…” She looks around, looking for Johnny. He’s there. Sitting on the end of the bed. “Well, not yet, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry gestures to the bedside table. “Got you some water and some pain meds. Not exactly over-the-counter shit,” he warns, watching as she scoops the two pills up in her hand with no fucking care whatsoever and throws them back, reaching for the glass of water with the desperation of someone who’s car’s broken down in the badlands, “but anything that makes you bleed like that has to fuckin’ hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she says between mouthfuls of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got the maid drying your clothes now, should be done soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods, putting the now empty glass back down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Kerry, I really appreciate this.” She looks back down, gesturing to the pyjamas. “Nice threads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like ‘em?” he laughs. “They’re yours. Don’t think my ex wife is gonna want ‘em back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This finally gets Johnny to pipe up. “Can’t say I’m surprised Kerry got </span>
  <em>
    <span>married,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, “but I’m definitely not surprised he got divorced.” She considers relaying this to Kerry -- she relays most of what Johnny says to him -- but decides against it. Dick move to be mean to the guy who just had your clothes laundered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shifts his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably for a moment before taking a decisive breath. “I know you probably feel like shit right now, but can I ask ya’ somethin’?” He waits for her to nod. “Mind if I sit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V scoots over a little, allowing him more room to sit on the edge of the bed, which he does. “Shoot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He settles, chewing a little on the inside of his lip, clearly thinking it over in a way that makes V think she already knows what he’s about to ask. “Fuck’s going on, V?” He asks. “I know it’s complicated, Johnny told me that much… but Johnny asked me somethin’ last night before you ate the floor and…” he exhales. “Look, I know he thinks I can’t handle whatever’s happening, but if things are as fucked as I think they are, I’d like to have a heads up this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell him, V,” Johnny says suddenly, “no need to upset him over something he can’t fix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V glances between the two. “Kerry, it’s nothing--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off it’s ‘nothing,” Kerry cuts in. “Johnny asked me to ‘look after you,’ V.” It’s like being slapped in the face. She wasn’t expecting to hear that. “We both know that’s not something he asks for no reason, so cut the bullshit, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny starts talking, but V makes a decision, speaking right over the top of him. “I’m dying. Thing Johnny’s stored on? The Relic? It’s killing me.” The confidence in Kerry’s face is gone now as she continues to explain. “It’s… the short version is that it’s erasing me from my own brain and soon he’s just gonna… overwrite me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry stares at her for a moment, Johnny glitching behind him, pacing about, clearly unhappy that V’s spilled the beans. “Fuck,” Kerry exhales, his shoulders dropping, slouching, the realisation dawning on him. “Fuck, V. That’s…” he shakes his head. “So what happened at the bar was…?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A seizure?” She finishes. “Yeah. They’re getting worse and worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how bad is this?” He asks, gesturing to V. “Like, do you got a lotta’--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s bad,” she says quickly, her voice quiet. “Don’t think I’ve got much time left at all.” They sit in silence for a moment, but V’s not doing a great job at handling it today. She shrugs and gives a half-hearted laugh, trying desperately to ease things up. “On the bright side, means you get Johnny back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry blinks, frowning at her. “What? I-- not like this, V,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s nice to have him around again, but this is…” he exhales. “What do we do? There’s fuckin’ gotta be somethin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> working on it,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “Trying to figure out something that doesn’t mean…” V trails off, catching the look on Kerry’s face. Fuck. She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. He already knows where it’s going. “Tryna’ find the best solution for the both of us,” she finishes, hoping it’ll put him at ease, just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t work. Kerry rests his elbows on his knees, exhaling again and curling his fingers up into his hairline for a moment. “You can’t both share a body, can you?” He asks. He doesn’t need her to answer, though. They both know that. “That’s why he asked me that.” Kerry clicks his tongue and stands up, beginning to pace even more aggressively than Johnny. “Him and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin’</span>
  </em>
  <span> martyr bullshit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gonna come to that,” she insists. “I’m not gonna let it come to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be stubborn, V,” he says, voice simmering with something that could be anger but sounds way more like panic, “but you’re not even close to Johnny. If he asked--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if he asked you to keep an eye on me if things go south?” She asks. “I’d expect you to do the same if it’s the other way around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head. “You don’t get it, V. I know what he’s like. Johnny doesn’t ask for shit like that unless he really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> gives a shit about someone.” She glances at Johnny, who’s now staring out the window, arms crossed, back to the two of them but obviously listening to every word. “I mean, fuckin’ look at you,” he says as he gestures around the room. “You broke in here knowing there was like, three security bots ready to blast holes through you. You robbed Arasaka. You pulled that shit at that Parade. Not like you can’t handle yourself. I mean, christ, him being that worried about what’ll happen to you is like, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were fuckin’.” V holds her breath. “I mean, obviously not,” Kerry says as an aside, allowing V to dodge a very emotional bullet, “but that’s how he gets, you know? And for him to fucking admit that, and to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all fuckin’ people--” he pauses. His voice is trembling, but he quickly catches himself. “Means he’s made his mind up, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues to pace, and V has a lot of thoughts flipping through her head about what she could say. Some of the thoughts are hers, some of them are </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny’s. But one seems to tumble out involuntarily. “Johnny really fucked you up, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry stops pacing, his expression one of insult, seemingly as a reflex. But after a second, it softens, maybe because he can tell that V’s not coming from a place of malice. “Yeah,” he admits quietly, the panic melting off him in front of her eyes. “He has a habit of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agrees, keenly aware of the fact that Johnny’s still facing out the window. “He does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry takes a deep breath and nods to himself. “Look, I know he’s changed a little, V -- I don’t know how the fuck you did it, but you’ve made some kind of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>on him. I’ve fuckin’ seen it. ‘Fore he died--” Kerry stops himself, “--Or, whatever the fuck happened to him -- there was this… I mean, Johnny’s always been an asshole. But he was especially fucked, V. Like he was fuckin’... I dunno, rotting inside or something. He’s always been on edge but whatever happened to Alt just fuckin’ broke him, you know? I mean,” Kerry shrugs, “somethin’ inside you gotta be real fuckin’ rotton for you to do what he did at ‘Saka tower, even if it did end the corpo war.” He pauses again. “But now it’s almost like he’s the guy I knew when we started the band, you know? Still an asshole, but not poison. Like you managed to get the venom out of him or somethin’.” Kerry crosses his arm and laughs a little to himself. “I mean, it’s fuckin’ commendable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V smiles, but her heart’s not in it, really. “Thanks, but I… I don’t think I had to do much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beg to differ,” Johnny calls from the window. It makes her jump a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry smiles. “Nah, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>somethin’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whenever Johnny got close to anyone -- not like normal friend shit, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>close</span>
  </em>
  <span> where you gotta start opening up, y’know? -- he’d push you right away. Got too close to Rogue, panicked, started fuckin’ round on her. Fucked Henry one too many times on tour and next thing I know they’re fist-fighting in the back of the bus--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” V blurts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Henry?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like, concrete-in-Denny’s-pool Henry?” She glances at Johnny. His shoulders are </span>
  <em>
    <span>visibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> tenser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Kerry laughs. “Wasn’t kidding when I said anything that would let him jack in.” There’s another pause, Kerry smiling this time. Apparently there’s some not-shitty memories behind it. “Alt was the stubborn one out of us, I guess. He’d push her away, she’d wait a bit and come back -- or he’d go find her. Same story every time, though. Guess he had stuff going on in there that he didn’t wanna share. Did that any time someone got close to makin’ him think about what was under it all, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, the words tumble out of her mouth, and it feels more like it’s Johnny asking than her. “He do that to you, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry freezes, his expression vanishing into confusion, then surprise, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “...He tell you?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Johnny again, still facing the window, but leaning against it now, the palm of his right hand against the glass, his head lowered. “No,” she lies. “You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘us.’</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s heavy for Kerry, she can tell that much, but after a little while it seems almost like he’s relieved. “Well,” he laughs, although it’s a hollow one, “guess all of my fuckin' trauma makes a lot more sense now, huh?” It’s a clear and obvious attempt at lightening the mood, but V plays along, happy to know that he at least can get some of it off his chest now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny doesn’t look at them once for the rest of their little stay. There’s a feeling bleeding through from him that she’s been unable to really name until now, but all of a sudden it -- and a lot of other things -- make sense to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s shame. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>johnny silverhand is a bisexual king and sexual multi-tool and that's canon, ya'll can look it up. i don't make the rules but we must stan.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Nocturn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’s not moving her hand. He is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her palm slams against the control panel of the elevator, bringing it to a stop with a sudden lurch, knocking her on her ass -- not that she needs much help in falling over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be hours from now, V,” he warns, “you can’t even stand on your own two feet,” Johnny says, upsettingly calm, watching as she slowly pulls herself up, choosing to stay sitting on the elevator floor. “While I’m good to go. Body listens to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He crouches down, sitting across from her on the floor. “See what I’m gettin’ at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course I can,” she chokes back. Her voice is trembling again. Every fucking word feels strained right now. “Want me to hand over the ke--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna save your life,” he insists, glitching to the floor right in front of her, kneeling on one knee and all but closing her in against the wall of the elevator, giving her nowhere to look but at him. “Take those pills and let me take over, V,” he says. She tries to scoot aside and away, but he quickly throws his hand to the wall, pinning her in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> get us to fuckin’ Mikoshi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” She scoffs, “be fuckin’ realistic, Johnny--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go it without that porcelain cunt’s help, that’s for sure.” He glitches to his feet, popping a ‘cigarette’ in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t stand a chance without her help.” While V’s not slurring thanks to the meds, but there’s still an odd tilt to her speech pattern that’s scaring the shit out of him. Be starts to pace, eyeing her, terrified she could have another seizure at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He asks, hands balling into fists, frustrated with her continued insistence. “Because Takemur--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they might have a way to get you out of this,” she snaps. “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck’s sake,” he groans. “How many times do we have to go through this? Fuckin’-- V,” he pauses, taking a very deliberate puff of his cigarette. “Even if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> something, some kinda clone body or some shit, I wouldn’t fuckin’ take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls her eyes. “Because it’s Arasaka?” She asks. “You’re so fuckin’ petty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just watching you get brain damage right in front of me. We don’t have time for this shit.” Johnny shakes his head, visibly exhausted by the argument they seem to have again and again and again. “I had my time, V. Get it through your fucking skull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t… that doesn’t even make sense.” Her holo beeps. Takemura. Again. She rolls her eyes, grunting in frustration. This time, unlike all the other times, she takes the call. “Busy. Call you back,” she says flatly before immediately hanging up. He’s no doubt trying to find out what Hanako offered, or trying to follow up. V has a feeling he probably already knows exactly what Hanako put on the table for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny rolls his shoulders, dumbfounded. All that fighting, all her fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisting</span>
  </em>
  <span> on seeing that guy and now she’s just not taking his calls on a whim. “Don’t know why you’re so shitty with him,” he remarks, “he was right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V braces one hand against the floor, one against the elevator wall. “About what?” She asks, preparing to try and stand up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what I did.” Johnny takes a second and watches her pull herself up. She stumbles a little, and it takes an effort for him to stop himself from instinctively trying to catch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Saka had it coming,” she replies flatly, somewhat upright, but still holding herself against the wall. Johnny rubs at his jaw in disbelief. Hearing her say that is one thing, but hearing her say it so casually, on the other hand… “If you hadn’t done it, someone else in the corpo war would have. Woulda’ dragged their feet, too. Least you ripped it off like a bandaid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, V, you’re sounding exactly like me.” He rubs a palm across his face, exacerbated, and V rests her back against the elevator wall. She’s out of breath from that alone. That’s fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Fine!” He exclaims, gesturing to her. “If terrorism isn’t enough for you, what about how I treated everyone? Rogue? Kerry? Alt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the first toxic asshole to push away people he cares about,” she says with a shrug. “You forgot Henry, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny glitches directly in front of her again. “You need to slow the fuck down and listen to me before I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before what?” She asks. She gives him a little smile, and something about it totally disarms him. V reaches out, placing her palm flat against his chest. She swears she can feel his heartbeat -- which is, really, just her own when she thinks about it. “I’m not letting you shut me out, Johnny. Stop trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny holds his ground, locking eyes with her. “That’s not what this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it?” She snaps, her voice rising. “Why won’t you just let me try and get you a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>out?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her voice has risen to a full shout now, the feedback loop kicking in, the anxieties and frustrations they’re both feeling spilling over into each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s hand snaps up and grabs her wrist, metal fingers encasing it. “Because I’m not letting you fuck yourself up for me!” he shouts back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do whatever the fuck I feel like, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> body!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Well it’s gonna fuckin’ be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you don’t shut the fuck up and listen to me!” His grip tightens a little. “You and Kerry call </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fuckin’ martyr? When’re you gonna get it, V? No one’s gonna give you head in the afterlife for throwing your life away for some dead fuckin’ memory!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s jaw tenses, the frustration slamming against the inside of her chest and splashing into her throat, where it becomes red, hot, bubbling anger. “When the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>gonna get it?!” She all but screams. “You don’t have to make yourself suffer every fucking time you start to love someone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The both fall silent, staring each other down. She raises her free hand to pretend to rub at her eyes again -- same as usual -- anything to hide that she’s crying. Johnny doesn’t say a word, even when she expects him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brings her free hand to grab at his cybernetic arm, the one that’s holding her other hand, and speaking through her teeth. “I get it. Loving someone is scary. Terrifying. If you let someone in, it’ll hurt when they eventually go, and the idea of them leaving is so fucking scary that you’d rather chew through your own fuckin’ arm than go through it. I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>get it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her voice is trembling. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span> and ready to collapse in a heap at any second, and it shows. “But guess what, asshole? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>turn now. So you’re gonna step the fuck aside and let me at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to find us a way out of this, or you’re going to inherit a body with a broken heart. Your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all happens so suddenly that it takes her a second to catch up. His eyes widen and he drops her wrist, bringing his hands to the side of her face and pulling her to him, V stumbling as they collide together, a muffled cry of surprise barely escaping as he kisses her. After the initial shock, though, she grips at his tank top, holding on to him for dear life as they kiss. There was never any doubt she’d kiss back. Not a shred of it between them. She knows that he knows she’s crying, and he knows that she knows she doesn’t have to hide it anymore. She’s allowed to be vulnerable right now. They both are. Anyone else would be frightened by the ugly inside them -- the grief, the hurt, the abandonment and fear and rage. Not Johnny and V. They can see right through that ugly and find themselves on the other side of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re finally admitting it?” he finally asks when they come up for air, a grin on his face. “You’ve fallen in love with me. Knew it.” She scoffs in response, rolling her eyes. “Bet it was love at first sight. Can’t blame--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take it back,” she warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs to himself, their foreheads resting together, their hair in each other's faces. “This is fucked up, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agrees in an exhale. “Really fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the tickle of blood trickling from her nose, but before she can see to it, Johnny reaches up and wipes it away with his thumb. Doesn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything, but it’s more about the gesture. “Let me call Rogue. She’s not rusted through just yet.” He pauses. “...Plus, she owes me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she’d have stuck her neck out for you half a century ago,” V replies, closing her eyes, racking her brain for </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of solution that they’ll both be at peace with. “Don’t see her doing that now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll convince her,” he insists. “We know a thing or two about ops like this. We’ll blast into ‘Saka Tower like we did back in the day, then we just gotta’ find our way inside Mikoshi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing her lips together, she takes a deep breath. There’s got to be a better way. She can’t just fucking send Johnny and Rogue in there alone -- they’ll get blown to bits, just the two of them. And that’s if Rogue even says yes to what’s a fucking suicide mission. But Hanako’s offer is… shady is putting it lightly. Johnny probably has a more suitable word for it, but it’s probably more offensive. Why the fuck did she have to fall in love with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Out of all the people in her life -- River, Judy, Takemura, anyone -- it had to be Johnny fuckin’ Silverhand. Panam fucking warned her about this--</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Panam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck! Panam!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s eyes snap open. “What about Panam?” She asks. “She offered help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s shoulders drop, pulling back a little, his hands moving from her face to her shoulders. “Those guys are trailer Tuggers,” he argues. “An assault on Arasaka’s not just another convoy for them to ‘jack -- you already tried this with amateurs.” He pauses, carefully gauging V’s response. “Both know how that ended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s V’s turn to drop her shoulders now, Johnny’s hands sliding off them. “And you,” she begins, voice shaking so strongly that she had to take a second, get another breath and try to speak from her throat rather than her chest. “You tried it with pros. Didn’t go any fucking better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want those people involved, their lives on the line, on your conscience,” he warns. “Know what you’re like, V. That’ll haunt you.” He steps back and takes a drag of a cigarette that he’s glitched back into his hands. “Our one hope is sitting in Afterlife right now and her name is Rogue. With her experience? Her resources? Her connections? Won’t find anyone better in the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny--” her ears start ringing, but Johnny cuts her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gotta work!” He snaps. “We breach the tower,” her vision doubles. Then it </span>
  <em>
    <span>triples.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Alt cracks open Mikoshi,” V’s software starts flashing. Every fucking warning her OS has in its aresenal is going off. Her optics are shorting out. Her skull feels too tight. “Then I fuck up that--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s legs go numb. She cries out. The last thing she sees is the elevator’s fluorescent light.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry to drop another short one on you, but after all that angst, I thought you all deserved something a little kinder...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Stars Are Blind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She keeps trying to open her eyes, waiting to see some light or some shapes or… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she doesn’t. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No sight, no sound, no feeling. Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, she swears she can feel something brush against her skin. Fingertips?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nah, it’s not what you think.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Johnny but her at the same time. It feels like she’s thinking, but it’s his words. It’s hard to explain. It’s like it’s one in the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet, anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She manages to get her eyes open, but it’s momentary, unable to hold them open for longer than a few seconds before they feel too heavy. At the most, V is able to get a glimpse of medical tools on a table. The paper under them is splattered with blood, probably hers. Her eyes roll back into her head, sleep not pulling her in, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>dragging</span>
  </em>
  <span> her under. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens them again at some stage, she’s not sure how long it’s been since last time. Her head is in the same position. Her software interface is back, flashing away, every warning under the sun popping up on the sides of her vision as her optics flicker. There’s a faint ‘clicking’ feeling behind her ear, a sensation she can only really describe as two small pieces of metal clicking together. It’s followed by a short, tiny jolt, shorting her optics out. She can’t hear anything, but she can assume that someone’s soldering something in her head. Vik. It’s gotta be Vik. She hopes it is, anyway. She goes back under. She’s doped up as fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third time is the final time she comes back, this time able to keep her eyes open and her optics online. The outer edges of her sight are dark, the same way it was when she first had her Kiroshi optics installed. She tries to speak, but all she can manage is a grunt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy there,” a familiar voice warns, the sound of it putting her at ease. “Don’t move just yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vik?” She already knows it’s him, of course. She’d know that voice anywhere, and she’s never been more happy to hear it -- but with all the headfucking lately, she needs to confirm it. She doesn’t know what’s what anymore. She waits, hoping to hear Johnny, or even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, but there’s nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in pain, I know,” he explains as V feels a hand on her shoulder, jabbing her with something. Hypo? Max Doc? It feels better than she felt thirty seconds ago, anyway. “Delirious when you arrived, so I had to dose you with betahaloperidol.” She winces, following Vik’s lead as he gently tugs on her shoulder, trying to roll her onto her back. “Light oversensitivity’s a good sign. Means your optic nerves aren’t damaged.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes focus a little more, Vik standing above her, tapping away at his terminal while something she’s plugged into beeps. A heart monitor? Maybe? Her heart is racing, though -- should be beeping faster. “How’d…” V squeezes her eyes shut again. It’s like she not only has a hangover, but someone’s driven an ice pick into her brain. Although, if Vik’s had to operate, that might not be too far from reality. “How’d I get here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragged yourself here. Beat to hell and back.” His response is flat -- actually he almost sounds a little angry at her. “Gave Misty a hell of a fright.” V tries to remember anything after the elevator, but… nothing. She doesn’t remember leaving the elevator, she doesn’t remember getting here, nothing. “Shoved my patient at the time off my table and </span>
  <em>
    <span>demanded</span>
  </em>
  <span> you be treated immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny got her here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She manages to ignore the pain that rips up from her shoulders and into her neck when she moves just long enough to turn her head to see him. Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s still here. She didn’t break the relic -- can she even do that? Whatever. She’s just glad to see him. He smiles at her, leaning his back against the wall of the clinic. “Tell him it was your guardian angel,” he whispers to her. It’s weirdly intimate, despite him being on the other side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I uh…” she holds in a laugh, managing to return Johnny’s smile without giving too much away. “I wasn’t completely myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Vik exhales, looking away from his terminal to look at V. He doesn’t seem thrilled she’s here. In fact, the last time she saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> look on his face was when he first told her about what the relic was doing to her brain… fuck. That’s a bad sign. “That’s a bit worrying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik focuses his attention back on the terminal. “So,” V says, clearing her throat, the sudden movement of air in her airways causing a sudden sharp and bloody taste in her mouth, peppered with something chemically. Was she fuckin’ intubated? “How bad we talking?” He looks at her again and V offers him a hopeful smile. Her stomach drops when Vik returns it. “...That bad, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik’s head hangs a little, looking back to the terminal and swiping at something, the machine next to her giving a beep that she can only describe as ‘chunky.’ “Alright,” he announces, skipping over elaborating on her question. “That should help. Try sitting up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carefully.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he instructs. She’s not sure what he’s done, but her vision is a bit sharper, and the headache had decreased from ‘migraine’ to ‘inconvenience.’ Her fingertips and toes are tingling. Parts of her right thigh feel totally numb as she shifts her weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think I’m gettin’ some feeling ba--argh!” V grits her teeth and cries out a little as she tries to sit up fully. It feels like every vertebrae in her spine is clicking. Her chest hurts, but in that deep, muscular ache way. Every joint in her body seems to grind as she moves and her jaw </span>
  <em>
    <span>stings.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She swears she can feel her teeth. By the time she gets herself sitting upright, she’s out of breath. “Another victory,” she tries to joke, already out of air, “for the history books.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik doesn’t even humour this. He’s far too focused on whatever’s on the terminal, frowning, absorbed in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can sit up alright…” her chest actually rumbles as the air escapes her lungs. “...But I can tell you don’t have good news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, he swipes at the terminal again, this time apparently dismissing it, the screen lifting up and away from him. Vik turns to her, any trace of the humour that he usually carries when she drags her ass in here full of bullets or broken bones or fried chrome gone. Instead, he frowns at her, his arms crossed, and shakes his head. “How much longer is this going to go on?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s a bit surprised by the anger in his tone. It’s not the first time Vik’s been mad at her for getting hurt, of course. He’s given her more than her share of lectures. But this is… different. There’s a deeper layer to it. Every other time he’s been, at the very least, relieved to see her alive. “You tell me” is the best she can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans down, getting on her eye level. “Lookin’ at you, not long at all.” He tilts his head, looking her up and down. This is part lecture, part check up. “Next attack, you won’t be able to crawl back here,” he warns, his voice frying a little above the anger below it. He takes her by the jaw, tilting her head to the left and then to the right. He’s checking her optics. “You’ll flatline in some back alley.” Satisfied, he releases her, standing upright, arms crossing again. He leans back on his heels ever so much to bring his chest even more upright -- he’s trying to detach himself a little. “This is your last chance to take matters into your own hands, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t stand to look at him like this. It’s one thing to have him yell at her for breaking her new ankle implants, but this? This is… this is real. It’s not disappointment, it’s something worse that she doesn’t really have a name for. She looks at Johnny. He’s avoiding looking at both of them. If there’s a feedback loop right now, it’s full of pure shame. “I know, Vik,” she says, trying to reach out to grab at the arm rests of the operating chair with the intent of dragging herself off it. She flexes her hands. Fuck, they feel so weak. “I’ll try, soon.” She intends to follow up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>I promise,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Vik cuts her off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’ll do it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She very, very carefully grabs the armrest and slides herself down the length of the seat, finally feeling her feet touch the floor. They’re tingly, almost like pins and needles, and she wonders how the fuck long she was out for. Vik steps aside, tilting his head behind him. “See that setup over there?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says, watching Johnny glitche behind it. “What about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find the last dose of psuedoendotrizine there. A gift from Misty.” Vik’s tone is cold, flat, deliberately sanitized. “Wanna give in to the voices in your head? Go ahead. Take a puff, go silent, get out.” He starts to pace, the front dropping a little as he says ‘get out,’ something bubbling up. What is it with men and pacing when they’re feeling anything, she wonders. He stops, though, apparently catching himself, and pauses. “Or,” he takes a deepo breath and exhales. “...Find another way. End things on your own terms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t need to look at Johnny to know how he feels about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got a little present from me there, too. Blockers,” Vik continues. “If you can walk to that table… the rest is up to you. Just you, V.” He pauses. “Can’t help you with this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik eyes V for a moment, and she thinks that he might have something else to say to her -- it definitely looks like it -- but instead he drops his arms and walks away, walking past the table and back to his usual seat, sitting in front of his TV. She begins the process of trying to get to her feet without falling to her ass, especially given… what Vik is clearly feeling about all this, and Johnny glitches beside her, cigarette in his hand, puffing on it almost frantically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard him,” Johnny says. “We’ve got one last chance. I’m taking the wheel,” he says, not asking but </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisting.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Let’s do it. Endotrizine. Rogue. ‘Saka Tower.” He throws the phantom cigarette to the floor. “Only way this is gonna work.” He looks away from her -- it’s deliberate, although she’s unsure if it’s to avoid seeing her in her current state, or because he’s trying to hide something from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath. “Give it a fuckin’ rest, Johnny,” she all but chokes out, finally putting her weight on both her feet, taking a second to be cautious as she stands. Her legs shake beneath her. “It’s my decision.” She’s not even sure if she’s thinking it to him or speaking out loud anymore. She’s too scared to look at Vik to gauge his reaction. Probably best she doesn’t know. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotta think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need to stretch your noodle?” Johnny asks. At this, Vik turns from the TV, watching V. “Fine.” Johnny’s talking, but it’s coming out of V’s mouth. “Just not in this basement.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, V,” Vik exclaims, finally ending the act, standing to his feet, all but shouting at her. “You’re talkin’ out loud!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha--” she stumbles a little as she walks forward. Johnny, once again, instinctively moves to catch her, as though he could help at all. She manages to stop herself from falling. “No, I’m… I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go fix this thing!” Vik snaps -- actually, it’s less of a snap and more of an outburst. She’s turned around with the intent of getting the pills from the table. Not being able to see him right now is a small mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realises Misty’s sitting on the steps, arms wrapped around her knees, watching. Fuck. Has she been there this whole time? Misty looks up at her and gives her a look that… it breaks her fuckin’ heart. That’s what. So does the idea of leaving Vik like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vik?” She asks, slowly turning around, hoping to give him some time to gather himself up before he enters her (limited) line of sight. “Thanks. For all this. For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ripperdoc’s in his TV-seat, elbows on his knees, slouching over but still watching V as she sways on the spot. At first it looks like he’s about to rip into V, which, honestly, she kind of deserves. Guy worked his ass off bringing her back to life only to have her drag her ass around until the last possible moment. After a second, though, his face softens and he looks down to the floor, his head dropping. Hurts more than anything he could shout at her. “Just sorry I couldn’t do more.” He exhales and looks up at her momentarily before he sits up, swivelling his seat to face the TV again. “Go on now. I wanna close up.” V turns around, expecting that to be the last she hears from him, but he’s not done. “Take meds and… and do what you gotta do, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t have it in her to look at him again. “Thanks Vik, I will,” she agrees, picking up the pills from the table. “You hang in there, too.” Next to the pills is a pistol. It’s like having cold water thrown in her face. She knows what this means -- don’t need a literature degree to know what it is that Vik’s offered by leaving that there for her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck, kid.” It’s the softest she thinks she’s ever heard him speak. She takes the pistol, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes a beeline for the exit, watching Misty quickly get to her feet as she passes. “V?” She asks, following her out of Viks -- although at the speed V’s walking, it’s not hard to keep up. “I heard… well… I heard your </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoughts?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stops, taking this as a chance to catch her breath. With every step she takes she feels a little bit better in some ways, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse in others. “Shouldn’tve had to,” she says, trying to downplay how short of breath she feels right now. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be,” Misty says, offering a gentle smile, her trademark kindness not failing her, even in this kind of situation. She leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I know what’s goin’ on. I know it won’t be easy.” She pauses. “For either of you.” She stands upright again, rubbing her arm a little nervously. “If you don’t wanna decide here, I know a much better place,” she offers quickly, getting in before V has a chance to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>what that was supposed to mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> or even deny it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks at Johnny. He gives her a knowing nod. “Sure,” V accepts. “Lead the way. ...Why’s this spot special?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took Jackie there once. It’s not far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackie?” V asks. “What’s Jackie got to do with this?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misty leads V out the doors of Vic’s clinic and up the stairs, bringing her into the back alley. Instead of leading her into the Esoterica like V expects, though, Misty leads V into a building to their right, walking her straight to the elevator. Every step that V takes is more steady than the last, her nervous system finally catching up. “Roof,” Misty says as V enters the elevator and stares at the keypad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He had the same glum face,” Misty recalls once V presses the ‘roof’ button and the elevator begins to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” V asks. “Jack?” Fuck, her voice sounds so raspy. It’s killing her, too. All scratchy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misty smiles a little as she remembers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This is it, chica,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she quotes, leaning against the elevator interior. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m done for.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t sound like the Jackie I knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a long time ago,” Misty explains. V’s optics are throbbing in her skull right now, and she finds herself squinting a little. “His mom’d just found out he’d signed up with the Valentinos.” The doors open and she pushes herself off the wall. “Trust me,” she says, passing V and leading her into a landing. “Senora Welles on one shoulder, gang choombas on the other -- no choice is gonna seem like the right one.” V grunts in agreement. “Life wasn’t easy for my Jackie,” Misty admits as she leads V up another set of stairs, “but… he found the courage to bet on himself after I brought him here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misty leads V outside, finally, to a rooftop space. It’s a good spot, and it’s clearly a known-secret that’s furnished with a cheap table and some plastic chairs. Johnny’s already glitched up here, smiling a little to himself. “That’s more like it,” he sighs. “Air.” Misty leads V to a couple of well-worn plastic chairs that look over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See that?” She asks, taking a seat, gesturing for V to take the empty seat beside her. V takes note of the small container that’s been put between the chairs, a makeshift table with a radio and half-empty beer bottles on top. “I come here to get away,” she explains with a smile. “Whenever I need to be alone with my thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s onto something,” Johnny adds. “Oughta take a second. Mull through some shit yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obliging her, V sits down in the red chair to Misty’s right, setting the pistol down on the container between them. It’s hard to not catch the look this brings up in Misty’s eyes, but she tries to at least pretend to ignore it. “Be alone with my thoughts?” V laughs. She opens her hand, looking at the pills sitting on her palm. “Easier said than done…” V finally looks ahead, at the horizon. The view of Night City is… something. Wonderful? Breathtaking? Beautiful? ...Something. That’s honestly the best word for it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What’d Jackie decide up here, anyway?” She asks. Johnny glitches to the edge of the rooftop across from V, sitting on the lip of the tiny, barely-a-wall and taking in the view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know,” Misty recalls, tilting her head from some side to the other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gonna be a legend in this city!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She smiles briefly. Clearly a fond memory. ...and then her expression sinks. Misty sits quietly for a moment before nodding to herself. “I’m gonna leave you alone now,” she announces, getting up out of the chair. “Take your time,” she says quietly, exiting immediately, probably avoiding the vibes that are up here. “The both of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misty isn’t even out of sight when Johnny pipes up. “Fuckin’ scared me. You know that?” They watch her turn the corner and make her way back down into the landing, leaving the two -- of one -- of them alone. “Thought you were on your way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” V says, turning her attention to Johnny and the horizon. “Still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny glitches into the seat that Misty occupied only moments before, his arm resting on the arm rest and his palm idly upturned in her direction. An invitation -- one that V eagerly accepts. She slides her hand into his, using the free one to reach into her jacket pocket and remove Evelyn’s old cigarette case, sitting it on her leg and opening it. “You don’t smoke,” Johnny says, watching her take a cigarette from the case and put it between her lips, reaching for the lighter next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says, pausing to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling. “But you do.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles to himself and V holds the cigarette between her lips as she puts away the lighter and the case. Her hands are shaking. Johnny doesn’t need to be in her head to see she’s terrified, even if she’ll never admit it. Stubborn like him that way, even without the bleed. “Been thinking ‘bout all the stuff I’d like to do if we had more time,” he says, resting back into the chair. “All the stuff I had to take off the backburner and safe for the next life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoots him a look. “Bit grim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, looking ahead, smiling a little. “We’ve both already died more times than most people,” he jokes. “Doesn’t seem grim to me. Seems… reasonable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” she says, taking a drag of the cigarette, deciding to humour him. “What would you have done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop wearing my own fuckin merch, for one,” he says, looking down at the kevlar he wears that has the Samurai logo sprayed all over it. “Mighta’ been cool sixty years ago, but things have changed. Think I’d wear Kerry’s merch instead.” He glances at V, smiling when he catches the tiny one on her face. “Teach you to play guitar -- you’d have to cut those nails, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way, old man,” she snorts. He chuckles along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know your friend Judy?” He asks. “Her little boathouse outside of the city?” He waits for her to nod before he continues. “Think I’d wanna spend some time there. Not a fan of the water, but I like the quiet. You get space to think out there, you can go five minutes without some obnoxious ad getting shoved in your face. No one out there is trying to get you to buy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Was nice, yeah,” V agrees.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Would have been nicer without the awkward, unrequited sexual tension.” He laughs a little when V rolls her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about if we find you a body?” She asks. “What’ll you do then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny sighs. “V, don’t go getting yourself hung up on--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just humour me,” she insists, looking him in the eye. There’s something behind it that, quietly, wrecks him. She’s desperate for some kind of promise of a way out, some kind of hope, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantasy </span>
  </em>
  <span>of an alternative to what’s staring them in the face. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny does his best to pretend this isn’t shaking him as much as it’s shaking her. Someone has to hold this whole operation up, and if there’s one thing he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do, it’s try and make her feel like she’s not 100% on her own, even if she insists that’s how it is. “Haven’t given it a lot of thought,” he admits, turning his gaze to the cityscape. It’s a half truth. He’s thought about it, sure. How could he not? Especially at the start. But now? He’s tried to push it out of his mind, tried to eliminate the idea from his head. Of course he’d like to have his own body. He’d love to get hammered and play gigs and get in fights and kiss V and feel her fall asleep on his chest after a two day bender. But there’s nothing anymore that could tempt him to take V’s life away from her, not anymore, even his own desires. “Think I’d drink that drink they named after me at Afterlife,” he suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never did order one for us,” V recalls. “I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> one with Jackie, before you happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t really a priority.” He smooths his thumb over the back of her hands, relishing how vivid the feeling is. Usually when they touch he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, but it also feels like there’s something between them, like a thin layer of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>static. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not now. This is as real as anything. He loves it and he hates it at the same time, knowing what it means about how far into the process of destroying V’s brain the Relic is. “What about you?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had a body or if we had more time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we had more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a second to think, silently smoking in thought before speaking on the exhale. “Learn guitar,” she concedes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny snorts. “Kiss-ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls her eyes and continues. “Spend more time with Panam, I think. Feels like a dick move to become close friends like that and… die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about River?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “He’s a big boy. He can look after himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever happened to him, anyway? You never called him back.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Probably for the better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in silence for another beat before Johnny nods to himself. “And if I got a body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V smirks, glancing at him. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, but she’s humoured, at least. “I’m dying and you’re asking for dirty talk?” She takes a final drag of her cigarette and tosses it to the ground. “Don’t know, actually. Probably get Vik to put some new legs on me so I could keep up with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that like you’d be running around after </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Think it’d be the other way around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing to really follow up on that with, but they don’t need to. There’s a secondary conversation happening that doesn’t need to be spoken, one that’s happening through a weird, automatic state of morphic resonance or something. They know what they really wanted to answer with, things too hard or painful to say. Flashes run through their minds, thoughts of spending weeks at a time locked up in V’s apartment together, making up for lost time. Thoughts of not having to worry about if Johnny will still be there if she wakes up, not having to worry about if V will wake up tomorrow at all. Being able to meet all these people she’s befriended, meet the people important to her, thank them for looking after her and helping her. Being able to watch Johnny physically occupy a room with those who didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. Leaving the city together -- fuck knows where’d they’d go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back. Neither say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” he says, his voice marginally softer than before, “you should call anybody that you wanna say goodbye to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worst case scenario… that’s what you expect?” She asks, facing him. Her eyes are wide. There’s that fear again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shakes his head. “No. But whatever you decide, risk’s gonna be high. If things don’t go our way…” he trails off. “Just fuckin’ do it. Anyone you gotta talk to, now’s the time.” He squeezes her hand again. “Pills can wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glitches out of the seat and back to his spot across from V, looking back out over the city, turned away from her. Partially to grant her a little bit of privacy, even if performative, and partially because he knows who she needs to call. They both do. It’s gonna sting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath and opens the holo, opening Takemura’s contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It barely rings before he responds. “V,” he says, clear shock in his voice. “Where are you? Are you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she assures him with a smile, albeit a half-hearted one. “Didn’t wake you, did I?’’</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says quickly. “I have been…” Takemura pauses, like he’s weighing something up. “...I have been looking for you. Hanako-sama informed me that you had met, and I thought that I may be able to catch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “I… I’ve been a real piece of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You are… V, there is much on your shoulders. I do not blame you. But now that we have Hanako-sama’s assistance, you will not suffer much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why does he have to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this? Why can’t he be an asshole and make this easy? “Ever thoughtful,” she muses aloud. “You’re a really good guy, Takemura.” V looks down at her hands, and silently thanks herself that Takemura isn’t in her head the way Johnny is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura frowns. “Something is wrong,” he observes. “V, where are you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m safe,” she assures him. “Don’t… don’t worry about me. I’m alright. Just wanted to call you and…” she takes another deep breath. “Just wanna say thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V isn’t sure where Takemura is or what he’s doing, but she can tell that he’s immediately gone to action. He’s stood up, and he’s started walking. “V, I am worried--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were really good to me, Takemura. Better than I deserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me where you are, I will-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t regret any of our time. Dunno if I’d have made it this far without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, what are you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be too mad at me, okay?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t really see Takemura’s surroundings, but she can tell, very clearly, that he’s stopped moving. “...What are you saying?” He asks, his voice low, full of air, like she’s sucked the breath out of him. “V, please,” he says. “Take Hanako-sama’s offer. She will help you. Arasaka will help you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will help you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares beyond the holo and to Johnny, who’s still looking over the city, even though she knows he’s listening to every word. He can probably feel the shame dripping off her right now. Takemura’s given her everything he can -- and for what? For her to run off with a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>engram?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How do you even justify that to him? You don’t. And V won’t even try. Honestly, the lie is less hurtful than the truth in this situation. “Takemura, this isn’t gonna-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am in love with you,” Takemura blurts. Her eyes widen and she pretty much locks up, and it’s enough to even pull Johnny away from pretending to not listen, the engram now staring at V with pretty much the same expression she has. “It is not a thing I take lightly, and I assure you that I would never lead you down a path that would lead you to ruin.” Johnny reaches up and rubs at the bridge of his nose as Takemura speaks, muttering a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Jesus’</span>
  </em>
  <span> to himself. “Let me come and get you. I know you have your reservations about Arasaka, but I assure you, I will protect you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel the tears welling up and knows they’re coming, and there’s a pang of something in her chest that she almost mistakes for regret, for a feeling she doesn’t want to let go of. The good thing about her situation, though, is that this whole link with Johnny has given her the ability to read her feelings with more clarify than she ever had before. If it’s to do with Johnny’s help or her own emotional brain going into survival mode, she’ll never know. What she does know is that what’s she’s feeling is… a mix of things that </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen. Gratitude that he was so kind to her, maybe a little bit of love, and probably some grief. But there’s a part of her that knows she can’t have both, even if she desperately wants to -- she can assume it’s Johnny’s past experience dialling in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Most of all, she feels shame. She fucked this guy around. The same way she fucked around River, the same way she fucked around Panam and Kerry by not being totally honest about her chances of making it out. Same way she’s fucked over herself, really. But it stops here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look after yourself, Takemura,” she says quietly. “Thanks for everything.” He says something, but she cuts the call before he can even get halfway through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flops back into her seat, exhaling, the air loud as it passes through her lips. “You didn’t have to do that,” Johnny says. “Break it off.” He clears his throat. “Wish you hadn’t. He’s a gonk, but he would have taken care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes her head before dropping her face into her hands, taking a second to collect herself. “Only if I’d taken Hanako’s offer,” she explains. “Might say he loves me, but ‘Saka’s everything to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think he loves the idea of you,” Johnny agrees. “The fantasy of you trading it all in for ‘Saka loyalty and settling down to a happy little corpo marriage in Japan, probably,” he muses, a toxic edge to his voice that V hasn’t heard in a while now. “If he really knew the real you like he thinks he does--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then he’d know there’s no way I’d take that deal,” V finishes. “Still feel like a piece of shit, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind.” Johnny shrugs. “‘Sides, don’t need him. Kerry’ll look after you if that’s how it ends up. Made him promise me he would.” V smiles at this. Johnny means well, even if they both know that it’s not about her </span>
  <em>
    <span>needing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Takemura at all. Never was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They share another silence, Johnny pretending not to notice as V dabs away a couple of tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come a long way, haven’t we?” He asks. “And to think -- it all started in a fuckin’ landfill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles, dabbing the last of the tears away, a half-hearted smile following. “Then you tried to kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly what I mean. Tryna’ save your sorry ass now.” He smiles at her. “You can let me do that.” He watches the way V shifts in her seat, assessing her reaction. In fact, it looks like she’s about to burst into tears -- and not those little tears like she just had. The big, loud, ugly kind. He’s caused enough of those. “Or you can try Panam and her tarmac rats,” he concedes, “but then their lives’ll… well, it’ll weigh on your soul.” He pauses. “Or you can take Arasaka’s deal, but… well, judging by how you just let your output loose, I think we’re on the same page there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, this gets a little smile out of her. “Actually, if anyone’s my output now, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny can’t help himself but smile at this. Not really the time to gloat, but it’s nice. Feels like a win. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels like a win against that smug little corpo fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, V nods to herself. “Gonna try and ask Panam for help,” she says decisively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolutely sure?” Johnny asks. “No goin’ back on this, you know.” Johnny’s only really asking for V’s sake. He knew from the moment she first brought it up it was where she was gonna go with this, deep down. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stop trying to convince her otherwise...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna try this with Panam,” she says after a moment, nodding to herself, taking the pills out of her pocket and staring at them again. She knows she needs to take the blocker. She needs it to stop the process, to slow it down, but she doesn’t want to do any of this without him at least next to her. Even just the next few hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rises to his feet. “Got a feelin’ you’re gonna regret this decision. And the moment that dawns,” he says, moving in front of her, “I’ll might not be there with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be my last ride, this,” she says, looking up at him. “If it doesn’t work out… just… wanna be there for it. Wanna be aware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything at first. V could take the blocker now -- it’ll give her more time, something she needs dearly -- but it means not having Johnny around for four to six hours. She has spares, too. Vik overestimated how much she’d taken. She’d hardly really taken any in the scheme of things. Guess the trick is to fall in love with your engram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny reaches out and puts his hand on her shoulder. “Time to take your medicine, V,” he says gently, his free hand lifting and lifting hers along with it. Taking the hint, she throws the blocker back, dry-swallowing it, tears welling in her eyes again. Once satisfied she’s taken her dose, he leans down and kisses her. Nothing too wild -- it’s actually surprisingly chaste for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people -- but it feels like the most important thing he’s ever fuckin’ done. “Don’t wanna add more to your load, but I want you to know that I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she says quickly, closing her eyes, relaxing into his touch. “I know you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she opens them, he’s gone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BEFORE YOU PANIC I PROMISE THIS IS NOT THE LAST OF TAKEMURA</p><p>From here out it's gonna get pretty canon divergent. Trust me. Cyberpunk is like a toxic boyfriend in that _i can fix him just give me a little time i can do it i can change him_</p><p>Thanks so much, once again, for all your patience and feedback sabdnuijakdhnbudp I'm not really sure what to say to all the really lovely and kind things you guys write. One day I'mma learn to take a compliment or something.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. お前はもう死んでいる</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She doesn’t even make it to Panam’s car, although she doesn’t have a seizure this time -- she just passes out. If it’s to do with the relic or just because she’s so exhausted is to be seen, but she feels the best she has in a few days when she finally comes to, Mitch waiting to greet her with a smile as always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably given a good thing, seeing as she’s found herself jacked into the net less than two hours later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hates everything about the net. She hates how her fingers and toes go numb. She hates how she feels like she has a fever the whole time. She hates how it makes her eyes sting and how there’s a constant, low, loud rumble in her ears. She always feels anxious in there, a deep, existential kind of dread. Like sleep paralysis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come alone,” Alt observes. Alt herself doesn’t really help, honestly. V’s got a problem with her face, how she perceives it, or the lack thereof. It always seems like she can almost see it, like if she just moves her head a little or squints or waits another second, she’ll be able to catch a glimpse of what’s obscured underneath all the ‘hair.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny’s currently… indisposed,” V explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Currently,” Alt repeats. The scariest thing about Alt is that, being an AI, you can’t get a read on her. It’s the same tone at all times. You just have to give her words the benefit of the doubt. “He is buried deeper. You treat him like an unwanted passenger -- a backseat dreamer of a world not his own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s eyebrows shoot up. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>new.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Seemed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you didn’t give a shit about Johnny anymore,” she replies, trying to keep the bite out of her voice that she knows is on the edge of it. “Almost like he stopped existing to you, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he did not exist, you and I would have nothing to discuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V blinks a couple of times. “Let me… let me get this straight,” she says, a surprised laugh in her voice. She puts a hand out to gesture for Alt to wait, knowing fully well it ‘means’ nothing here. It’s just habit. “Are you saying you only agreed to help me because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And because he’s not here this </span>
  <em>
    <span>one time,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re thinking of bailing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not intend to ‘bail,’” Alt responds. “I have my own intentions for Mikoshi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” V says, the hostility she’s feeling slipping out a little. She hopes that AIs aren’t as strong a read as humans are. “For a second there you were mad at me and I seemed like a side note.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To observe the two of you interacting…” Alt begins. V’s stomach drops. Fuck. “...Informative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, V thinks that Alt, AI or not, is trying to say something. That she’s trying to imply something, or even bait V into a discussion they just don’t have time for. She steels herself, keeping in mind that every second she’s jacked in is another second she’s putting her body under the stress of netrunning. “Need your help, Alt,” she insists, trying to steer the conversation back on course. “Don’t got a lot of time left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You truly believe time to be your greatest concern?” Alt asks. “You exist or you do not exist. Two states of being separated by death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself, given how you cheated death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this what you believe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shrugs. “I mean, your code, your consciousness… AIs live beyond the boundary. They live forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we are not immortal.” There’s a brief pause. “You will begin to understand, but only in Mikoshi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V can’t help herself. This entire conversation is frustrating her, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this AI is doing this on purpose, dangling a solution above her. For what reason? Spite? Jealousy? Can AIs even feel jealousy? Is that a carryover from when Alt was human? This is a headfuck, even for V -- and she has </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny Silverhand</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her brain. “Well then why don’t you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>enlighten</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?” She snaps. “You’re a powerful AI. Should be fuckin’ easy for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your logic is flawed. You seek simple answers where there are none.” V tenses her jaw, remembering who she’s speaking to. “This is the very illusion on which your world is based.” It’s taking everything in V’s power to not roll her eyes right now. “At this moment, you would accept any answer if it made you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Okay. Ouch. Maybe there’s a little truth behind that. Maybe. But V’s not willing to give that away. “Guess that’d be… what? Human of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such classifications no longer apply in Mikoshi,” Alt explains. “Your perception will shatter into billions of strings of unfiltered data.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V exhales. Her chest feels light in here, at least. That’s pleasant. “So what should I expect in there?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A boundary to cross,” Alt replies as flat as ever. “In all likelihood, the sole moment of your life when you feel the true weight of your existence -- a burden for which you cannot prepare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V clears her throat, nodding to herself. “Sounds great, Alt,” she says to herself, knowing fully well that Alt can hear everything she says, “looking forward to it. I’ll bring drinks.” She tilts her head from side to side, collecting herself. “I’ll make it through,” V announces. If it’s to assure Alt, Johnny, or herself, she has no idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While Mikoshi will not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the constructs imprisoned in there?” V asks. “You’re gonna free them, right?” Her mind immediately flashes to what Takemura told her about Jackie. That he has an engram, that it's in Mikoshi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They will be integrated with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Integrated?” V asks. “So… you’re gonna absorb them?” V doesn’t like this. “No wonder you wanna help. I get it now. Wanna destroy Mikoshi and add all those psyches to…” she gestures to Alt, as though it means anything. “You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mikoshi is a prison. Through me, they gain the chance to become something greater.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes her head. “Know what human singularity is, Alt. I get it. I’ve seen Evangelion.” She finally relents, rolling her eyes. “Not sure Johnny’s gonna like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet he is absent because you feel you must make the decision,” Alt quickly bats back. “It is the same situation in form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somehow I doubt you’re gonna ask them, Alt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There would be no point in this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V drops her shoulders. This isn’t going anywhere, and the more she talks to Alt, the most she’s getting frustrated with their most valuable ally. “Wasting time talking,” she says. “Let’s just do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a brief silence before Alt speaks again. “There,” she finally says. “I have sent a program to your netrunner’s shard. Once inside Mikoshi, use it,” she instructs. “It opens a secure connection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” V agrees. She’s hardly what you’d call a netrunner herself, but she knows enough about tech to know what Alt’s talking about. “A back door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is how you will get me into Mikoshi,” Alt confirms. “Only then will I be able to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope you don’t have any surprises planned, Alt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any specific access points?” She asks. “Place is gonna be hard-ICEd all the way back to Tokyo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use the shard,” she reiterates. “Leave security to me.” Alt pauses. “Until then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the connection is cut, it’s unceremonial, done without warning. When V wakes up, there are literal sparks flying off her, one of the Aldercados ripping the jack out of her head, the tech around them flashing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>screaming</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Johnny was right about the weight of everyone’s souls -- if she didn’t already feel fucking terrible about dragging the Aledercados into this storm of hot shit, her heart-to-heart with Panam sure locked that feeling in. Still, though, even despite their shared angst, Panam seems somewhat at peace with what they’re about to do. V will return the favour one day, with interest. She’s sure of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if she doesn’t, Johnny will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Panam,” V begins, the two of them still gazing up at the stars. “I uh… I know we just spent all that time talking about how you’re doing me the biggest solid in the history of solids,” she quickly glances to Panam, getting a read on her friend’s reaction. Panam smiles a little to herself. Good. Not all bad, then. “But can I ask you for one more thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam shrugs. “Sure. What’s one more while we’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uh... “ V clears her throat. She knows no matter how she goes about asking this, Panam’s gonna get a little… </span>
  <em>
    <span>prickly</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen once I get into Mikoshi, but… if something happens to me and Johnny makes it ou--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious,” Panam scoffs, turning to face V. “You’re going to make it out.” She stares V down for a moment before looking back up at the stars, smiling to herself. “You’re going to make it out or I will kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs under her breath at this, still watching Panam, a smile on her face. “Of course. Don’t wanna fuck with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people,” she teases, before taking a breath and looking back to the camp. Still a party going on. Some of the Aldercados who are staying behind as support plan on going all night, it seems. “But if I don’t, hypothetically,” she continues, “I need you to look after Johnny for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>snorts</span>
  </em>
  <span> at this, cracking up. “You’re kidding, right?” She laughs. “V, you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Panam draws her attention back away from the stars and to V’s expression, it must… well, whatever V looks like right now must get the message across pretty well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Panam exhales, dropping her head down, shoulders drooping down with it. “You’re serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he’d need a lot of looking after,” V offers. “Just… make sure he pays my rent, at least at first. Try and keep him out of trouble--” V stops herself. “Or, okay, just make sure he gets medical attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, you are being absolutely--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” V asks. “Just to help me sleep tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V watches Panam carefully, very aware that Panam doesn’t exactly want to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she’s not willing to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. “Fine,” she finally relents. “But you are assuming he would even listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile on V’s face, for the first time in a while, feels genuine. Panam’s right -- this is of little difference because when Johnny decides on something, that’s it. But it’s comforting, regardless. “Nah, Johnny likes you. Think you’d be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Panam chuckles. “I’m glad to know that your brain-boyfriend likes me,” she teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Saul,” Johnny says suddenly. “Put my eddies on the wrong horse, V, you shoulda’ been fuckin’ him instead of the corpo.” V jumps, cursing a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin’ christ </span>
  </em>
  <span>out loud as she quickly looks to her side. Clear as day, Johnny sits beside her, a shit-eating grin on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t escape Panam. “V?” She asks. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V replies, a little breathlessly, putting her hand to her chest as she looks back to Johnny. V’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>beaming</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now and you bet your ass Johnny is extremely pleased with himself. Hard not to be when there’s a woman like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> smiling because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> showed up. “It’s uh, it’s Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you took blockers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did. They only last so long, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna be okay?” Panam asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V nods quickly. “I’ve got one or two left.” V reaches up and scratches at her neck. “Hey, uh, I… I think I need--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some space to </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘clear your head?’”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Panam teases, smirking, an eyebrow raised. V’s a little surprised. She’d expected Panam to be kind of standoffish about this, but they’ve sunk more than a few beers tonight, and Panam started before V did. Probably helps a little. She tilts her head towards a pathway between some of the trucks. “Your car’s still there from last time, when you drove the bike back,” she says. “Go and get your rocks off,” she says with a grin, picking up her beer and pausing to take a sip. “Just don’t go too far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V reaches up and gives Panam a gentle fist-pump to the shoulder. “Thanks, Panam,” she says, beginning the careful descent down from the truck they’ve been sitting on the roof of. “You’re a real one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does her best to slip away unnoticed, but a few eyes definitely catch her. Thankfully for her, though, Johnny’s invisible to everyone but her, so the only person who’s gonna be giving V shit later is Panam. “Asking Panam to babysit me, huh?” He finally asks as they arrive at the car. “That'd be cute if it wasn’t totally a waste of a promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had an okay night so far, given the circumstances,” she warns, opening the door and climbing into the driver’s seat. Johnny instantly glitches into the seat beside her as she starts the engine. “Try not to ruin it.” She’s mostly kidding. Mostly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s careful when she starts to drive, not wanting to kick up too much dust. They don’t drive too far at all. Maybe three minutes, five? They park on top of a ridge with a nice enough view of the city, V getting out of the car without another word, rounding the front and climbing onto the hood. Johnny, of course, is beside her without so much as a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice, huh?” She says after a few more quiet moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Even with all the ads and shit,” Johnny agrees. “Gonna miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V inhales sharply. “Can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about either of us dying?” She asks. “Just for a little bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Johnny replies, voice soft. “Sorry.” There’s a pause. “Talked to Alt?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>V nods. “Sure did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About as good as it was ever gonna go… she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mythic</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitch when she wants to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny laughs at V’s little observation. “Good to see that part of her’s still alive and kickin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m starting to see a pattern here,” V says, smirking and scooting over to him, Johnny reaching out and resting his arm over her shoulders, his fingertips grazing her collarbone. “Think you might have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>type,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Silverhand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Disaster twinks and women who like telling me to go fuck myself?” He looks at V and smiles. “With all this introspection shit you’ve taught me, I’m starting to think that you’re onto something there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her next laugh is a shocked one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> taught you introspection?” She laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shrugs. “Don’t think you meant it,” he quickly clarifies, “not about to give you that much credit. ...But yeah, I think I learned a thing or two from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches up, lacing her fingers between his, her hand hanging from his as it dangles over her shoulder. He turns his head, planting a kiss against her hair, causing her to reactively turn hers to look at him. “V?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta say it sometime,” he says, his free hand smoothing over her hair. “It’ll be good for you. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.” He pauses. “I know from experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand on her hair moves to her chin, tilting it up and not giving her much of a choice but to look at him, really. “Really?” She asks. “Or do you just wanna hear it?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little from column a, and a little from column b.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses her, once again in a way that’s so gentle and soft that she almost doesn’t believe it’s him. When she finally speaks, she can feel their lips brushing together with every word. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, V,” he says. “Love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sex that happens isn’t like other sex they’ve had, not even the sex they had in the back seat. It’s… almost like it’s urgent, like there’s danger coming and they need to be quick and secretive. It’s long, drawn kisses, hissing as they pull away to gasp for air. It’s fumbling over buckles and zips and buttons, not bothering to remove anything that’s not in the way like jackets or tank-tops beyond pushing them aside. It’s V’s hands slamming against the hood of the car as Johnny pulls her to the edge of it, her legs open and dangling over the edge, space made for him to fit into. It’s Johnny taking a second to savour the sight of her, almost naked, his dog-tags resting between her breasts as he takes her. It’s V putting her hands literally anywhere she can, mapping out anything she can in her mind and dedicating everything from the coldness of his metal arm to the roughness of his beard against her cheek and neck to memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the kind of sex you have when you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s the kind of sex you have when you want to be so close to someone that you can’t comprehend any other way to do it -- even if they’re already literally inside eachother’s heads. The kind of sex where you walk away with the scent of the other person in your nose for months. The kind of sex where neither of you seem to say a word but it’s still more raw and physical and intense than any of the other sex you’ve had. He doesn’t grab her breasts, he traces them. She doesn’t dig her nails into the back of his neck, she uses it to hold herself against him as tightly as possible, terrified that he’ll vanish away from her. It’s V damned near choking as she comes, despite sounding like she’s run a marathon. It’s Johnny holding her so tightly that he’s worried he’s going to break her ribs as he climaxes. It’s them falling over the edge in unison, everything one feeling only serving to haunt the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rest on the hood of the car for a while, exhausted, V as in Johnny’s arms as she can possibly be before the buzz of a mosquito overhead reminds her that she should probably put </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> some pants back on. She dresses in silence, rejoining Johnny on the hood after a few moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then, and only then, when Johnny brushes a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, that it finally happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V gives herself permission to break down and sob. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HNGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HERE WE GO GANG</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Never Fade Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is so much blood on her hands. So much. It’s all she can see right now. It’s all she taste in her mouth and feel on her skin and even smell. Blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why the fuck is this thing Alt’s made her jack into taking so long to boot up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many of the Aldercado family -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> new family -- gone. Not just flatlined but blown apart. They don’t even know if Mitch has made it, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep positive, and she told Panam that he’s probably fine but the truth is that all she can think about when she thinks about him is how his fuckin’ implants must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>melted</span>
  </em>
  <span> after that. And Saul-- fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Saul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Saul.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her optics finally shut off. Thank fuck. It’s almost over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever ‘over’ means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She comes to in an elevator. It’s moving. Already ascending. The control panel says ‘roof.’ It’s familiar, but it’s an elevator -- how familiar can it be? Weird way to introduce V to Mikoshi, but whatever, Alt, go off…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors open and it immediately clicks with her. She might not be familiar with that elevator, but she remembers this landing, the graffiti on the walls, the weird and lingering scent of incense that Misty’s no doubt responsible for. As soon as she steps out she sees a cat, which is something so unusual that it stops her in her tracks for a second. “Bakeneko,” she says to herself, smiling, thinking a little of happier times with Takemura, thinking about how he’d send her a message anytime he ever saw anything with a cat on it. It was their </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How grim, she thinks as she climbs up the stairs, passing it. How fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>grim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When she reaches the top, there’s… another landing and another set of stairs. Another cat, too. Weird. Maybe it’s not where she thought she is. Maybe this is some mind-fuck shit. This time when she passes the cat, it meows at her. She should be happy -- she hasn’t heard a cat meow in years. But it’s unsettling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another landing. Another set of stairs. “We get it, Alt,” she says to herself, rolling her eyes as she begrudgingly ascends the new stairs, passing the new cat. She’s trying to act unphased, but she’s terrified. It all seems so real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she reaches the rooftop and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s feels like her heart has fallen out of her mouth when she sees Jackie sitting in one of the plastic chairs, deep in thought. She’s scared, honestly. It doesn’t make sense at first, but then it dawns on her -- she’s in Mikoshi. This is… this is his engram. She’s in his prison. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly approaches him, terrified, the wet concrete beneath her feet making her realise that her shoes are gone for some reason. Is she naked? God she hope she’s not naked for this. He notices her, looking up at her, his smile driving a fuckin’ knife into her chest. “Chica…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V can immediately tell something’s wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He doesn’t sound right. He sounds… sad, or hurt. “How the hell are you in Mikoshi?” She asks, taking the seat beside him. She knows, of course. She knows exactly what happened -- that she sent him to Vik, that Arasaka raided his clinic and took Jackie’s body away. If Takemura left her with one parting gift, it was the knowledge of what happened to Jackie and why he never made his way back to his mother’s care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hit the major leagues, mamita!” He laughs. “Runnin’ with Dex! A heap of partly gold-plated cool! Not bad, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?” She asks, although she doesn’t really expect Jackie to be able to tell her. Maybe Alt will say something, though. Johnny. Anyone. “Is this a dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be alright, V,” Jackie says. “You’ll see.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s been screaming for days at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him stand up, walking to the edge of the rooftop and kicking one leg up onto the raised lip. “Misty knew…” he proclaims, looking over the city. “Misty always knows...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackie… amigo…” her voice cracks, lips quivering, too exhausted to put up her usual front. She never put a front up in front of Jackie, anyway. Jackie got to see all that, he knew V before she became the person she is now, he’s seen all her stumbles and breakdowns along the way. Watching her cry on a simulated rooftop is nothing new. “You really got no idea who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chica.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he says it and the look on his face rips her chest in two, sucking the air from her lungs, dampening the sob that reactively comes from her mouth as her whole both lurches. He’s in there, and he’s sad and he’s hurting as much as she is right now. God, she knows he’s in there -- but he’s either too confused to fully remember her or… he can’t say anything but the stuff he’s been parroting… and there’s no way for her to find out which it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up wordlessly, reaching out and touching his arm gently as a test. She can touch him. That’s something. This is torture, but… it’s something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then that V decides to do what she always said she’d do if she somehow, by some miracle, got to see him again. She pulls him into a hug, her arms wrapping around his chest, the side of her face pressed against it. He doesn’t really physically respond. Doesn’t need to. If he’s in there, he’ll know. God, he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>smells</span>
  </em>
  <span> like him, like cheap, minty aftershave and whatever oils Misty </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted</span>
  </em>
  <span> he roll on his pressure points. Migraines. He used to get hungover and tell her he got migraines so she’d fawn over him. Fuck V’s missed him. “G’bye, old friend,” she chokes, pulling away. “Afterlife,” V says, reaching out to try and touch his shoulder again. This time, she moves straight through him, everything in the sides of her vision seeming to melt away, crumble into black before her eyes. “See you there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then gone. It’s all gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let us go then, you and I,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a pyramid or something, a long walkway that looks almost endless. She’s definitely… in something techie. Mikoshi? Beyond the boundary? Who knows? Does it even matter?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When the evening is spread out across the sky,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A yellow beam of light opens at the top. V’s moving down the walkway. Doesn’t feel like she’s walking. Doesn’t matter, either. This is Alt’s space. It all feels automated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like a patient etherized upon a table,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>numb.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like she’s floating along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The muttering retreats,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>V decides she can’t be walking. She’s moving too fast. She’s not even sure if she’s still in her body -- or whatever form she takes in cyberspace, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries to speak. She can’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And sawdust restaurants and oyster-shells,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wants to call out to Johnny. She’s not here for poems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Streets that follow like a tedious argument,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pyramid gets nearer. She hopes this isn’t death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of insidious intent,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She really hopes she isn’t dying right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“To lead you to an overwhelming question…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swears she can hear Johnny’s voice, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, do not ask, “what is it?””</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hopes he hasn’t already merged with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let us go and make our visit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is that even what Alt wants? Is that what’s on the table for him at the end of this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is that what’s awaiting her at the end of this pathway she’s being dragged down?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s pulled all the way along, and then up some stairs, and then she sees him -- standing in front of the beam of light -- and the sight of Johnny fills her with a relief so overwhelming that it’s damned near on the edge of joy. She arrives behind him, finally coming to a stop, and instinctively reaches out to put her hand on his shoulder. “It worked,” she laughs, “we’re gonna fuckin’ live!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to her, a smile on his face. “Gotta’ admit -- you cobbled together a good plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been a lot, but I gotta' owe you one thing,” she says. “With you in my head? Didn’t just learn to kick down barriers. Learned to fuck ‘em.” He chuckles at this as V continues. “Now, nothin’ can hold me back. I can feel it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That so, huh?” He asks, walking through her. “That mean you’ve made a decision about us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V turns around, the space she left behind gone, the long pathway replaced with some kind of room made with data and… whatever all </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. Johnny sits at what looks like the ghost of a diner table, like the one where he first told her he’d changed her mind about killing her. “I want a word with Alt first,” she announces, glitching into the seat across from him, getting a taste of how Johnny’s been living. “Where is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shakes his head. “Haven’t caught on yet, have ya’?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What--” she stutters a little, watching as he kicks his feet up on the table. “Whatta’ you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alt’s already split us,” he explains, “one you jacked into Mikoshi she lit you up with Soulkiller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs. “Your output don’t fuck around,” she teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, apparently, is Alt’s limit. She appears beside the table, phasing in suddenly. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> his girlfriend,” she insists. V would be lying if, deep down, she enjoys the idea of bullying an AI </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a little.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad,” V says with a smirk, leaning back. Johnny turns his head from the AI, attempting to hide a smile. “Probably could have used someone like you. Might’ve made him less of a pain in the ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strong words from my equally ghost-like mainline,” he jokes back. Mainline? She’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>mainline</span>
  </em>
  <span> now? ...She can unpack that later. “Stuck in the same Arasaka construct prison as me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait--” V blinks, her focus pulled away from (admittedly) inappropriate banter and back to what the fuck is happening right now. “Are you… are you saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> an engram?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny nods. “Uh-uh. Same as me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, hold on,” V says quickly, panic rising in her throat. She doesn’t technically have a heart right now, but she swears she can hear it racing all the same. “What the fuck happened to me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny looks to Alt, who begins to explain. “I applied Soulkiller to the task of separating your two psyches, thereby creating V’s distinct construct,” the AI says, like this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>basic</span>
  </em>
  <span> concept to grasp. “An added analgesic protocol precluded any perception of pain.” V looks at her hands, as though they look </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> in here like they do in the real world. “I was unable to eliminate all the changes made through the Johnny data incursion and overwrite, but V’s engram integrity remains high.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meaning you can transfer her psyche back into her brain?” He asks. V can’t really add anything to that right now. She’s hyperventilating. Or at least it feels like she is, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if onto a blank, virgin partition.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks up, taking a breath, trying to force herself into a conversation about her that she feels distinctly excluded from. “You’re still gonna destroy Mikoshi?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s the one who answers. “Mmmhmm. It’s gotta' burn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about everyone locked away in there?” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will free them,” Alt explains. “Take them with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut the crap,” V exhales with a roll of her eyes. “You’re gonna eat them, absorb their code, make them a part of you.” Something about this angers V. If Alt wanted her to be okay with this, she probably shouldn’t have put Jackie’s engram directly in front of her not even five minutes ago. To Alt, it’s code. To V, it’s Jackie, even if she knows better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if they could hope for anything better, V,” Johnny argues. “C’mon…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They will be given a choice,” Alt adds. “I will take them with me, but they will not merge with me unless they agree to. I think you will find, however, that most will. They are incomplete. Unfinished software with little cognizance. To them, becoming part of a greater whole will be far beneficial to running alone and in an incomplete state.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shifts in place. She still doesn’t like it, but there’s not much she can argue with there. She can’t exactly say she understands much of this, although she’s sure that’s something that Alt is taking advantage of. “So that’s really it,” she finally says, giving up on the idea of arguing this any further. “We’re… done. You kept your word.” V looks up from her hands and at Johnny. He offers her a gentle, hopeful smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is one aspect I failed to take into account.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them immediately look to Alt, Johnny frowning. V wonders how much of this they’ve already discussed without her. He takes off his glasses, staring at her. “Alt?” He growls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The body is a key factor in this transaction,” she explains. “DNA reconfiguration of the relic has progressed too far. Added to aggressive, invasive medications and medical procedures, the body’s immune system is attacking its own neuron--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ,” V blurts, “will you just skip to the end?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long pause, and then -- “after I transfer your construct into your body, you will die,” Alt concludes. “It is inevitable.” V watches Johnny’s expression sink as he crosses his arms, taking this in with the same mix of shock and anger and disappointment and </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything else</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she is. “It is imminent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long pause, followed by the terrified “fuck” that slips out of V’s lips as she rests her elbows on the table and holds her head in her hands. Johnny’s silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will live for about six months,” Alt says. “Perhaps more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny shakes his head and the real, full scope of this races through V’s mind. “No, no, no,” she mumbles to herself. This can’t happen. “There has to be something,” she insists. “There has to be another way. ‘Saka’s clones, what about those? What about whatever all these engrams and shit are meant to go on?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not a possibility,” Alt responds.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Fuck do you mean that’s not a possibility?!” V’s shouting now. She’s too scared </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to shout. “Don’t act like a fuckin’ support bot, Alt, we all know they’ve been working on shit like 3D body printers--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In its current form,” Alt insists, speaking over V, “that technology is not sustainable. Even in the event that a suitable form did exist, it is not currently connected to any networks that I have been able to locate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s eyes lock onto Johnny. She’s trembling. She knows what this means. The solution she’d wanted to badly, any hope, even a little fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>whisper</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them both walking out of here is…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slams her palms on the table, letting out a frustrated and explosive “FUCK” as she drops her head, quickly covering her face with her hands. Johnny glitches beside her and rests a hand on her knee. He’s trying to comfort her, but it’s just making it hurt more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The biochip’s nanites have altered the body permanently,” Alt continues as V sobs into her hands. The AI either doesn’t care or doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “The body is now Johnny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alt,” Johnny says, cutting Alt off and stopping her before she can keep listing off ways this has gone absolutely fucked-up-sideways. “Give us a minute, V and I need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alt dissipates, everything around them morphing. V finds herself sitting somewhere now -- not at the diner table. She’s on her ass, her back leaning against something “I… I…” she’s trying to get the words out but her chest feels like it’s spasming. “E-everything we did,” she says, watching as a chair appears before her, Johnny pulling it up to sit across from here. “For nothing.” She swallows and takes a long, shaky breath. “I’ve had enough of this. A-all of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Johnny says. He’s sitting on the chair backwards, straddling it, resting his arms on top of the chair’s back. “‘Cause we’re sticking to the plan. I’m going with Alt -- fuck knows where -- and you’re keeping your body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s she even gonna take you?!” Alt argues, gesturing ahead at… nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond the Blackwall,” he explains. “To become part of her. ...Whatever the hell that means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wipes at her eyes -- she’s not sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>why,</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s no tears. Hell, there’s barely even a face. “What about… what about hanging around as a construct?” She offers. A panicked idea, but right now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> but this is an option. “Just until we find something else?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“That’s probably mean making a deal with ‘Saka. I’ll pass,” Johnny replies. “‘Sides, almost killed you once. I’d rather not watch that happen all over again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits on it for a moment. “Is there really no other way?” Johnny’s jaw tenses. He’s seen V at her worst… but right now… she’s shattered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broken.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’s gonna live for six months, sure… but she’s not gonna be the same. He’s failed her in that regard, and there’s a part of him that’s thankful he’s going beyond the Blackwall so he won’t have to carry the shame of that anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alt phases back, standing further behind Johnny this time. Maybe she got the message and wants to create a little distance. “Johnny can retain the body, remain there, and you can come with me,” she explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods to herself. “Was hoping for a happier ending. For everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here?” Johnny asks. “People like us? Wrong city, wrong people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alt does… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and duplications -- maybe reflections -- of her appear, a guiding line of sight down a path V can’t otherwise see. “This bridge leads deeper into cyberspace,” she begins. “Cross it and permanently sever the connection with your body.” Another line of reflections appears, leading in the opposite direction. “The path to your body passes through that mortal well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V feels frozen, locked up. She’s so stuck inside her head that she can’t think straight. She needs an outside perspective but… no point asking Johnny, not when he’s made his mind up. He won’t fucking budge. “Alt?” She asks. “If you were me… what would you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she says, clearing her throat a little. “What does that mean for me, exactly?” V asks. “Would I… be like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alt’s response is surprisingly honest, considering how fucking vague she’s been about this kind of shit in the past. “I was a netrunner. I understood how to survive,” Alt explains. “I cannot speak for you.” What she says next, however, is completely beyond what V expects from her at all. “Beyond the Blackwall dangers lurk. It is no sanctuary. But it’s better to be a free spirit shredded than to wither, trapped in a dying body.” It’s almost empathetic, in Alt’s own way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny, however, </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>surprise V one bit, speaking over Alt as she finishes. “Don’t do it, V. You been runnin’ from this all along,” he insists. “It’ll change you. You won’t be you anymore.” V notices the way Johnny tenses up as he says this, unable to look her in the eye. She can hazard a guess at what she’d be able to feel if they were still linked up. Fear -- although he’d never admit that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you?” She asks him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already took that first step a while back,” he says dismissively with a shrug. “Easier for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits in silence for whatever feels like a full minute. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>fought to get to this point. They fought tooth and nail, leaving a trail of blood and destruction and death behind them. She knows why Johnny’s here and what he wants for her, and, taking the deepest breath V thinks she’s ever going to take, V knows what she wants, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,” she announces. “We stick to the plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits up, something eerily effortless here. Guess it comes down to not really have any muscles that can ache. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Guess this is goodbye.” She can hardly get the words out. The way her voice sounds is fucking ripping his heart to shreds, but he manages to, somehow find a small comfort in knowing that once he follows Alt over that bridge, he won’t experience this anymore. “Walk me home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny smiles, nodding, glitching to the path, holding his hand out, which she takes in hers. Neither of them say anything, unable to really find anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> say as he leads her to the well, stopping at the edge. “You don’t ever stop being a pain in the ass, okay?” He says, taking her face in his hands. “Give everyone as much hell as they give you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, closing her eyes, leaning her whole body into him. “Don’t forget </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is who you are,” she instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because you helped me figure that out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me,” she says, looking up at him. “You’ll remember everything we learned together, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses. He hopes that he can, wherever he’s going, but he’ll say any damned thing right now to help her get through this, to even give her a shot at finding peace. “Promise.” He kisses her forehead, and then her lips when she tilts her face up to look at him. God, he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life, and he grants himself the right to drag it out, committing all of it to a memory he’s not sure if he’ll even have in a few moments. Her voice. That’s what he decides he’ll miss the most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, V?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it even clicks with him what’s happening, V grabs him by the shoulders and throws him over the edge of the well, sending him into the abyss inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny wakes up.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this isn't the end.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Is she--- </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> awake yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s been out of it for… well, he honestly has no fuckin’ idea how long it’s been. He can remember waking up after Mikoshi, feeling like he was drowning, Panam pulling him out of the water and screaming for V to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Must have sucked ass to be greeted by Johnny Silverhand instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though, Panam was good for her word when she promised V she’d look after him. Dragged his ass back to the Aldercados, who in turn dragged his ass back to camp. He’s been in and out of consciousness the whole time. Probably the brain getting over the shock -- it is, after all, a big change. Must be from trying to fit all of his massive personality in there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, though, he’s managed to stay awake for a while. Long enough for a nice but gruff lady to bring him some solids to eat. Hard to eat without looking at her -- err -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> hands. It’s so fucking quiet without her. Her can hardly fuckin’ stand it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” says a gruffer voice. “Actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>sat up</span>
  </em>
  <span> for breakfast today. Seems lucid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls over, looking at the tent’s roof above him, the thin stretcher squeaking underneath the weight of V’s body. He doesn’t like the way Panam said ‘good,’ not one bit. Nor does he like the way she storms through the tent’s opening and stands above him, her arms crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her for a moment, not moving, hands laced together and resting on his torso. Fuck’s he meant to say? “...Don’t know what happened,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam blinks, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you ‘don't</span>
  <em>
    <span> know?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bein’ honest,” Johnny explains. “Wasn’t meant to end like this. Believe me.” He pauses. He’s talking, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice is coming out. Hates it. It’s gonna haunt him. He can already tell. “I’m as pissed as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of explanation,” she insists. “Something. She can’t just… it doesn’t just…” She’s getting flustered, maybe even tripped up. He guesses she’s right to be confused. Panam doesn’t know if V’s dead or missing or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny exhales. “It’s… there’s a lot to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam looks around momentarily before reaching for the chair by the first-aid table, dragging it across and planting it beside the stretcher. “I’ve got time,” she says flatly, taking a seat. “Start talking.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>V sits up, stretching her arms out, light filtering through the window of River’s room, the shutters doing little to keep the room dark. She can smell the coffee and whatever it is for breakfast from her bed. Something sweet. She could stay here and wonder, or she can get up and find out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at the clock on his bedside table. 11.00am. They slept in again -- but it also means that Joss is at work and the kids are all at school. No need for pants, then. She climbs out of bed, smiling as she catches a glimpse of him standing over the stove at the end of the hallway. What a way to wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Goood</span>
  </em>
  <span> morning,” she half-sings when she gets to the kitchen, standing on her tip-toes to reach over his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well,” River laughs, turning his head quickly to steal a quick, full kiss from her. “Look who decided to get out of bed today!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” she shrugs, raising her eyebrows and pulling her lips into a dramatic frown, “I can go back if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’ll miss out on breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God forbid.” She rounds to his side, stealing one of the fresh pancakes off the pile. They’re fresh, but the perfect temperature; hot enough to be delightful, but cold enough to hold in her hands. “What’s the schedule looking like today?” She asks before all but shoving half of the pancake in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a second to chuckle at V’s lack of table manners first. “Got some evidence to go through at the station, but it’s not gonna get to the precinct until this afternoon,” he says with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” V’s voice is muffled, her mouth full as she gets the rest of her mouthful down. “So… you’re saying we’ve got a little more time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River takes the last pancake off the fry-pan, placing it on the pile -- the perfectly uniformly shaped and symmetrical pile, actually, now that V pays it a bit more attention -- before shutting off the heat of the stovetop. “Maybe,” he says, turning to fully face her, a playful smile on his face. “Why? What’re you thinking?” He gestures to the two fresh cups of coffee sitting on the bench next to the pancakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh, I don’t know…” she teases, picking up one of the cups, wrapping her hands around it and smiling to herself. “Was thinking maybe some cardio…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cardio,</span>
  </em>
  <span> huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River places a hand on V’s hip, leaning in to kiss her -- but by the time she realises that the mouthful of pancake hasn’t exactly washed down all the way with the coffee, it’s too late. She hiccups, accidentally knocking the cup against River and causing her to drop it, spilling it and the contents everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mug goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>the floor.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The first few steps were… </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Foreign. But Panam hasn’t really given Johnny much of a choice but to suck it up and figure it out. She’s not waiting around for him. Apparently they’re walking to something important, but all he managed to get out of her after he told her what happened was an embittered </span>
  <em>
    <span>“that’s just like her,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a firm </span>
  <em>
    <span>“come with me” --</span>
  </em>
  <span> so fucked if he knows where she’s taking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone they pass seems to be working on something, whether it be cars or weapons or tents or food, everyone seems busy. Things are in full swing in the Aldercado camp, it seems. He wonders if they’ve buried their dead yet, but quickly tries to banish that thought from his mind. They volunteered. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it. He would have done the same for V, honestly. She was that kind of woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she leads him to something that’s less like a tent and more like a portable warehouse -- he quickly identifies it as the tent that </span>
  <em>
    <span>usually</span>
  </em>
  <span> houses the Basilisk. The Basilisk isn’t there though. It’s parked outside. The tent is </span>
  <em>
    <span>stocked</span>
  </em>
  <span> with tech, all kinds of shit. Big machines, small machines, stuff that’s clearly running and stuff that looks like it’s about to fall about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Araska tech,” Panam explains, leading him inside and into the technical graveyard. “Backup rolled in not long after you-- uh,” she quickly catches herself, stepping over some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> bundle of cables, “after </span>
  <em>
    <span>V</span>
  </em>
  <span> jacked into Mikoshi. Took everything that wasn’t welded down. Then we brought in some gear and took that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoils of war, then,” Johnny observes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would seem so.” She comes to stop in front of… well, whatever it is, it seems to have attracted the most attention out of everything else in the haul. A huge terminal sits next to a long, clear tube that seems to have some kind of bed in it, all of it connected with the most wires that Johnny thinks he’s seen in a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a couple of familiar faces working on it. Mitch is soldering something into a panel on the side of the tube, stopping to give Johnny a nod and smile of acknowledgement -- he wishes he could tell V about this, he knows she was worried about him -- and Dakota’s tapping away at datapad that she’s jacked into the terminal. She doesn’t even acknowledge Johnny, and he can’t say he blames her after what happened to all her previous tech. “What am I looking at?” He finally asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitch?” Panam asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mitch looks back up from his soldering, pointing to the tube. “Well, according to what Dakota got off the terminal, this here’s an Organic Matter Printer, and that there,” he says, pointing to the terminal, “is where you tell it what--” he pauses, “...or </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> ya’ wanna’ print.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny opens his mouth to ask, but Panam cuts him clear off. “It’s a 3D printer that can print bodies!” She blurts, apparently unable to contain herself or maintain the front anymore. “We can use this to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mitch raises his palms, gesturing for her to stop. “Now, now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hypothetically,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he assures her. “Far as Dakota can tell from the logs, things only done test runs. We don’t know if it’ll work the way you want it to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Panam insists. She turns to Johnny. “And I can only assume that you would prefer your </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> body, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny hesitates for a second. This is a fuckin’ lot to wake up to. “Wouldn’t say no to having the old plumbing back,” he admits, eliciting a chuckle from Mitch, “but… if we’re on the same page here, Panam, even if we can… </span>
  <em>
    <span>print</span>
  </em>
  <span> me a body, we gotta get V back. Swap us over. And that’s if V’s even V anymore and not just a part of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny,” Panam says, her hand finding Johnny’s shoulder. It takes him a little aback. “You want her back, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says with a nod, his eyes running over the machine in front of him. He lifts V’s hands and, for the first time since jacking out of Mikoshi, looks at them on purpose. “More than--” His jaw tenses. “Tell me what we need.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, V,” River insists, trying to hand her a cloth. “It’s just coffee. It’ll clean up--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had to have seen that,” she insists, pointing at the spot where the mug should have been sitting on the linoleum. “It went straight through the fucking floor!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>River reaches out and lays his hand on V’s forehead. “You doin’ okay, V?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what I saw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River frowns, moving the hands from her forehead to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You should go lay down, you remember what your doc said.” He offers her a gentle smile. “Said things were gonna be like this for a while now. I’ll get this cleaned up, you go rest--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” V gestures for him to stop, racking her brain to remember that conversation. It’s there, but it’s fuzzy. She can definitely remember Vik’s voice, but his face is… hard to pin. But the memory is there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘You’ll be like this for a while. Brain’s gotta recover from the relic. Sometimes with this stuff it’s just best to let it do its own thing.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pauses. The relic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks around the kitchen, a sense of clarity washing over her suddenly letting her </span>
  <em>
    <span>see.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The pancakes are </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect. They’re uniform, clones of each other piled up. She looks at the fridge -- most of the photos are blurry and pixelated. The ones that do stick out aren’t of River’s family. They’re fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stock photos,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and obvious ones at that. She looks out the window, expecting to see the rest of their front yard, but there’s… nothing. It’s like it’s foggy out there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V?” River asks. “You’re scaring me. What’s--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you worked at the precinct?” She asks quickly, stepping back, palms out and upwards, trying to make space. Her heart is racing as her eyes fly around the room, picking out more and more things that are wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>River nods his head, his body language mirroring hers. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “you’re not freaking out because I’m a--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she blurts. “No, no, no… this… this isn’t right…” she’s thinking aloud, her words coming out in panicked, hushed whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look… just…” he pauses. “Sit down and we’ll give your ripperdoc a call--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a cop,” she explains quickly. “You quit. Right before I came over for dinner. And then you told me you weren’t going back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River… freezes. Like, he doesn’t stop moving -- he looks like he’s frozen in place. And the sounds of the kitchen like the humm of the fridge and the whitenoise from outside is gone, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-River?” She asks, her whole body trembling. No, this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be at River’s… she… she’s meant to be with someone, but she can’t remember who. She can’t remember how she got here. She can’t remember where she’s meant to be or why she’s here…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologise,” a voice suddenly says. V looks around, trying to find the source. The woman’s voice almost sounds like it’s coming from a PA system or something. It’s all encompassing. “I had intended to place you in a less emotionally volatile scenario in order to preserve processing--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is this?!” V cries out as everything around her fades away into pixelated, lagging imagery, before disappearing all together, leaving her in a black, empty space. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified,</span>
  </em>
  <span> most of all because this somehow seems </span>
  <em>
    <span>so familiar.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice continues like she didn’t even hear her. “I see now that it will not suffice. Allow me to alter the program to something more stimulating for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V wakes up in her own bed.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So,” Panam exhales, leaning over the war-table by the RV. Instead of maps this time, they have blueprints, schematics, and most importantly: lists. Lists of stuff they need to find, stuff they need to buy, stuff they need to fix, stuff Dakota needs to code… and people they need to ask for help. “To summarize, what do we need </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mitch rubs at his jaw. “Well, we’re gonna need a truck full of eddies--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about that,” Johnny quickly says waving his hand dismissively. “Know a guy. He’ll fund us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That easily, huh?” Mitch asks with an eyebrow raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He…” Johnny trails off, thinking of a way to put it nicely. “He has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal </span>
  </em>
  <span>interest in getting me my own body. Let’s just leave it at that.” He pauses. “And he owes me a favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam glances between the two before shrugging and gesturing for Mitch to continue. “We need someone who knows brains, inside and out,” he explains. “We got a good ripperdoc here, but let’s just say that he’s left a couple of us without a sense of smell before.” Johnny nods to himself. Vik might be a hard sell, but hopefully Misty will soften the good doctor up a little bit for him. “And then there’s the matter of Arasaka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny watches Mitch straighten up in his seat. Not a comfortable topic for anyone, given what they just went through. “We’re done with them,” Johnny insists. “Plenty of other people in this city who can--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have the time,” Panam cuts in, looking to Mitch for a follow up. "The longer V's in... the longer that she is gone, the more she will change, for all we know," she insists. "You told me this yourself. And we can't do this with what we have."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s uh…” he exhales. “She’s right. Know you don’t like ‘em. None of us do, but Dakota’s having a really fuckin’ hard time breaking any of their code. Stuff’s locked right up, and there’s still so much we don’t know about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The way Dakota explains it to me, she doesn’t even want us to jack the thing in until we’ve cleaned the code or whatever,” Panam adds. “For all we know, it could send alerts to Arasaka the second we connect it properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s jaw tenses. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but they’re right. The downside to fucking with ‘Saka tech is that you, eventually, will need someone familiar with it in order to fuck with it safely. “We burned that bridge pretty well, though,” he finally exhales. “Not even burned it. Nuked it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Panam insists. “Perhaps someone who worked there in the past, or someone who is looking to leave.” She pauses. “Whoever it is, we need to find them. I know you do not like the idea, and neither do I, but if we do not at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then Saul--” she stops herself, dropping her head and taking a deep breath, staring at the lists on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s right. The Aldercados did all of this for V, and Saul straight up died for her. Johnny has to stop himself from smiling -- he always liked Saul. Shame V’s tastes were different -- might’ve been easier to let her go if it’d been him. “I know a guy who might work with us,” he finally admits, shoulders dropping, knowing exactly what this means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panam’s head snaps up and she gives him a confused frown. “You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he nods. “He was telling V to rot in hell last time I heard from him, but I think he might come around.” It’s a half-truth. Johnny actually kind of doubts that he will, but right now… it’s the best lead he’s got. He just needs to think about how he’s gonna talk him into it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent!” Panam exclaims with a grin. “In that case, I’ll leave Mitch to track down the gear we need, and I’ll start co-ordinating supply runs.” Panam smiles to herself, looking back down at the blueprints. “And then, eventually, we will get V back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the little meeting is over, Johnny is more or less left to his own devices. He’s got people to find, sure, but there’s… well, there’s no V for him to talk with. No one to shoot the shit with. No one in the other seat of the car once he climbs into it. He absolutely fucking hates this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens her holo -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>christ</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s so many fuckin’ messages and missed calls. He’s already filtered through the voicemails. Some of V’s friends seem none-the-wiser to where she is or what’s happened, but others? Like Vik and Misty? ...He makes a mental note to visit them as soon as he’s done with this first one. No use getting anyone’s hopes up only to get murdered by the first person he drops in on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny starts the engine and opens V’s messaging app.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>[[Gonna be at my apartment in two hours. Come kill me there.<br/>
Unless you’re all talk.]]</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He sends the message to Takemura.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>To be continued in part two: Peer to Peer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we dID IT. WE GOT THERE. WE GOT TO THE END DBSHBFHSJALFDBHAL</p><p>or like, at least the end of this part. I'll be splitting this from here on out -- I figured we're at 19 chapters so it's just 'neater' to split it into two parts?<br/>but, yes, the next part will be absolutely johnny and takemura heavy. relationships can be fluid and things change and nothing is set in stone for V just yet. ;)</p><p>the first part should be up soon. I've already created the series, which is VPN, so you can sub or whatever in advance.</p><p>anyway, most of all though, I want to thank you all for being here for this and just... enjoying my work? This is a hobby for me but it's brought me so much joy and I really struggle to communicate how much every comment and all the support and all the love from people on discord and stuff has made me. Just... thank you so much. Seriously. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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